


In the Lethe

by teaandchess



Series: In the Lethe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Battle, Destruction, F/M, Gen, Megstiel - Freeform, Multi, Rebirth, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 224,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg's death was final. She was to remain in a strange place of peace and forgetfulness until the darkness of her soul could be cleansed and renewed. Until something begins to tear her from it and the consequences slowly become more than any could imagine.  (Written originally as a collection of long oneshots on tumblr that have  become connected.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Submerged (When Demons Die)

**Author's Note:**

> After the events of Goodbye Stranger, Meg's death has left her in a strange place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter began as a one shot, and such was written in the present tense. Future chapters swap out to another tense.

_Inspired by Spinnetod’s “When Demons Die” photo set, found[here](http://demonofdiscord.tumblr.com/post/44869223367/when-demons-die-au-held-in-oblivion-until-such).  
_

* * *

**Part 1: Submerged**

There was no memory of how she came here or why she was here. 

It wasn’t important.

What was important? Nothing. It was not that she didn’t care. There simply was nothing to care about. That this strange sense of peace was so foreign to an otherwise restless soul is a something that she ignores as she embraces it wholly. Without question, she gives herself over to it except for one niggling doubt that courses through her. She had more before, before the submerged feeling of being lost and without care.

 _I had a name,_ she thinks to herself.

 **A stolen name,** a strange voice mutters in her head and she bows her head against the breeze of the fan overhead.

_Had it been days? Weeks? Or just hours? Seconds?_

Her toe scrapes against the tile floor and she exhales slowly, just to ease the tension in her head though she was certain here she doesn’t need to breathe.

She only remembers bits of her time in this place. Wasn’t even sure she could have had a body in the beginning until that voice told her to pick a shape if she wished. The voice had explained she was here to heal and find peace before the next step and she would need something to walk about in.

A look to define her.

She’d settled for one that seemed right and familiar, and then instantly had surged upward from the bathtub she’d been lying submerged in. Dripping wet, icy cold at first with flesh unmarred by scars or accidental bruising and her head full of jumbled thoughts… but under that had been content. The warm air and sudden embrace of clean towels around her naked body had made her feel embraced. Loved.

Protected.

The body pleases her though she isn’t sure why. Tiny in frame, hair a mixture of golden and black because she hadn’t decided what she liked better, and she feels at home as her soul takes a new physical shape. Once her body had come into being in a way she didn’t understand, once she had found herself clothed in a soft white cotton, she had wandered. Aimlessly and she didn’t care where she went.

It didn’t matter.

_No cages of blood and bone, no smoke, no fire and sulphur…_

_No pain._

She grabs at her head and presses the heel of her hand just above her eye to try to stop that throbbing ache that suddenly comes at the thought of fire.

**You are safe here. There will be no more pain. You’ll be ready soon. Rest.**

“Yes,” she whispers and keeps moving.

The halls are just a maze of white and stark greys, monochromatic monotony built to calm the mind. There is no hunger, just a tiny niggle of thirst at the back of her throat, and no pain. Now and then she finds a room, usually with a white sheeted bed where she can lie down and rest for as long as she wants. Wrapping herself in the silk makes her feel loved and like an absent-minded child she could sleep for what feels like hours.

But she can’t stand the downy pillows left on each bed. Not when she can accidentally touch the casing and imagine feathers inside of them.

That phantom feeling of feathers causes an ache, if only for a short time before she’d forget it again.

She doesn’t care after all, not really. It was just that…just that the memory… pricks.

It burns.

—-

  Dragging her fingers against the cool painted brick, she leans her head to the side and stares down at her pale bare feet sticking out from the slouchy legs of her white trousers. One foot after another. 

**Patience, patience.**

Longest way around, as usual, she thinks wryly. Nothing to do but walk and yet that makes her happy.

A soft snicking sound makes her look over her shoulder.

_<_ _**Meg** _ _. >_

Empty halls stretch behind her.

< _ **Meg**_ _. >_

The brick under her fingers crumbles a little and she turns back around, stares down at her feet with wide eyes of panic and fear.

**Ignore them. You are content.**

"Yes," she whispers as she starts down the hall.

~~

The lack of hunger she feels somehow makes the sudden thirst utterly crippling and she wakes from a doze in the sun-lit window. The moment her feet hit the floor she lurches down to her knees.

She needs…

“ _You know we’re all dreaming again for the first time since we were human? It’s heaven on earth. Or hell.”_

Her voice? She coughs hoarsely and stops on her knees. Her voice. She knew it was her own. A borrowed sound but her words. Had it been a dream? What could she dream here but of softness and warmth?

**Relax. Drink and forget.**

"Yes," she whispers, desperate for just a drop and her stomach turns over impatiently. Just close by is a water fountain nailed to the wall. She just needs…

A drop of forgetfulness.

**The water will bring you peace.**

A spark of pure agony runs wildfire through her brain and she screams as she bows her head and pushes against it, crawling for the water fountain.

_<_ _**Meg.** _ _>  _

_Abomination._

_Whore._

_Bitch._

_Demon._

"No no no no no," she begs while her nails scrape into cold tile and she feels the ache increase until her throat is too dry for her to even swallow. The water fountain is so close but it might as well have been miles away for the suffering in her thirst.

Something dips close to her, brushes over the small of her back like the caress of fingers, and settles close against her with a phantom warmth.

_<_ _**Meg. >** _

“That’s not my real name,” she grinds out between clenched teeth.

< _ **I don’t know your true name but you like that name.**_ _>_

“What’s going on?”

_**< Meg.>** _

**Ignore it. You will know no pain once you drink.**

With one last pathetically desperate lurch forward, she grabs the metal edge of the fountain and turns it on. The water gushes out, and she thrusts her mouth over the spout. Her eyes shut in pure pleasure, and soon she is gulping down the ice cold water until her entire face is soaked and water dribbles down her chin. With each precious swallow, the pain of those memories fades and she forgets the meaning of agony and burning.

~~~

**You are content. You are loved. You will be protected.**

Those precious hours between gulping drinks at the fountain start to shrink in span and she knows it is because she needs to forget more and more. Somehow she thinks that she has collected actual centuries of memories and she wants to forget it all. There’s no pain in forgetting. The voice murmurs for her to drink her fill until she is happy again.

Someone wants her to be happy. 

For the first time, she actually feels happy. She feels content though she isn’t sure where the comparison to would lead her if she remembered her past.

The water eases the transition, bring a sparkling surface to her mind that doesn’t hurt and doesn’t let her feel the hate. It scrubs her memories from her until she is nearly a clean slate.

She can’t remember why she hated, only that she had for a very long time.

Almost much as she had suffered.

The halls start to lead her places, where others are wandering. None of them greet her, each as lost as she is in the vastness of the building. They form lines as they slowly walk down the halls and she filed in happily with them, exchanging a smile now and then but never once does it lead to any real acknowledgement. One, a handsome man with black hair and blue-grey eyes, makes her memory prick again and she doesn’t want to know why. She stays for precious sips at the fountain to forget that feeling and then continues on her way.

_Snick-snick._

Something stutters in the building and the line of people she’d been following all stop as one, like a centipede deciding its way. There’s no change in expression in any of their faces and they all wait but the longer she waits, the stranger it becomes. She needs to move. If she stays still, she’ll remember.

She starts to push her way through the line and they let her without helping her. The door is so close now, to another hall, to another fountain of water and she relaxes.

Until she hears the hiss of flames.

**Do not listen. You are safe if you stay in line.**

Fire laces through the lines of people and encompasses one of the men, setting him like a brilliant torch. She stares, the only one to look, and he stands there without trying to put out the flames, without screaming. His skin crisps to black and she can  smell foulness and char from the burning, but no one goes to save him. The sensation of pure power coursing through the building makes her prickle in awareness, realizing that the power is searching for something.

Without knowing why, her hands go to her stomach and brush underneath her t-shirt to touch the smooth strip of skin between breast and hip.

“ _You can’t gank demons, can you? You’re cut off from the home office and you ain’t got the juice. So what *can* you do, you impotent sap?” Her voice again, breathless and hungry._

“ _I can do this.” A huskier voice, seductive and hot as fire, pulls at her thirst._

_Then burning pain and humiliation._

Fresh agony rips through her entire body, and she screams, putting her hands over her ears to try to block out the thought. It’s not just the pain of fire, it’s the memory that she had been humiliated. Defeated. Again and again. Tortured and stretched to her limitations. All for nothing.

**Forget.**

< _ **Remember. >**_

_**~~** _

She wakes slowly, eyes flickering at the pale light in the distance. Somehow she’d been brought outside, transported in that way of waking dreams, and now instead of warm sheets she lies on soft hot sand. The hum of waves lapping at the shoreline drone on and on, and she rolls to her side to look out at the horizon. No clear sign of a sun, just light that highlighted the blue and green of the waters, drifting over her and warming her.

< _ **Remember. > **_

“I don’t want to remember. I am happy for the first time since…” S _talling. When was that last time?_ “I am content.”

< _ **Wake up! >**_

Striking pain slams into her face.

**Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget.**

**Drink and forget. Bathe in Lethe** _**.** _

Stumbling to her feet, that lurching movement happens again, as if she can’t control her own strides again.

She nearly makes it to where the waves turn the sand dark, but before her toes even can become wet, agonizing awareness comes back.

_I came, I saw, I conquered._

_You really think that’s what this is about? The master plan? I don’t give a rat’s ass about the master plan._

  _It’s a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear._

_I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love._

_You find a cause and you serve it._

“What am I?” She asks as she stares at the horizon and tries to remember how and why.

Suddenly it’s important and there is no knowing why it changes.

**Here it is not important, you will be reborn.**

_**< Wake up!>** _

The sky begins to crack, splintering apart like shards of glass, and the waves that had been touching her toes suddenly dry up into salt that burns her skin. A hand grasps her by her own, but when she looks no one is there touching her though the grip is strong. But to accompany that invisible touch is a darkness settling in the pit of her stomach like a cold knot of pressure.

**Forget.**

_**< Remember.>** _

The two words begin to overlap in her mind and she settles down onto her knees. The peace and comfort of the halls, the warmth and protect, all of it is gone. Only confusion and despair and pain centrifuge inside of her and spiral out until she puts her hands to her head to try to block out the words.

The one word begins to ring louder than the other, a pull on her soul, and the sheer white-hot agony of it burns. Her soul goes from crystalline white to smoky darkness in a heartbeat while tetherhooks of magic and power rip her from Oblivion.

The sky finally falls when she tilts her head back and screams.

~~

“Meg?”

Castiel sits on the end of the bed and stares at the demon huddled in the centre of the sheets. Exhausted to the core, he’d sat here, calling her by name and waiting for a sign. Dean and Sam are both asleep in the armchairs, not liking the idea of doing this but in a rare sign of solidarity they’d stayed at his side. He’d worked what power he had, what power he’d borrowed in dark magic and angry ritual, to find a way to pull her back. It has been well over an hour since she’d been killed, run through by the very blade he’d once let her use, because of what his actions had caused, and in the confusion of battle he’d saved her stolen meatsuit and worked so hard to try to think of a way.

He still needs her help. 

He still owes her a favour. 

The spell had taken so much from him that he can feel blood still caked on his clothing, his own battle wounds unhealed and burning with pain. But he’d ignored it when he’d seen that smoke drift in coils through the sigils and portals upon portals he’d built to pull her free. He only knew in myth where demons went when destroyed. Souls were recycled, purified, but ultimately forgotten. He’s not even sure what happens to them but the blocks against him had been strong. 

Castiel had never used so much power at once before and he can feel the exhaustion through his grace.

“Meg?”

There’s a faint movement on the bed and a moan that sounds hoarse. Near him, Sam jerks awake and stares at what had once been a corpse.

“Did it work?” 

“I’m not sure.” He can’t keep the small bit of hope from his voice. “Meg?”

Her head doesn’t lift from the pillow but he can see her eyes opening, black and bottomless. Moving around the bed, Castiel kneels beside her and looks into her eyes. It takes moments for her to focus on his face, to process the fresh flood of memories, and the hiss she gives is feral and furious, like a wounded animal facing a predator. She jerks back on the bed, her body against the headboard with a loud thump, and the wildness in her expression makes the angel stare.

There is no gratitude in the look she shoots him.

“What have you done?” she whispers, lifting her hands to her face. Like him, she can see her own darkness just beneath the surface of the stolen skin, and instead of her usual pride there is disgust and loathing. Her eyes lock on his. “What have you done to me?”

“I brought you back.” He expects her to do what she always does. Accept, carry on, a loyal soldier.

But something changes and twists in her face that wasn’t there before.

The whisper turns to a screech. “How could you! How could you do this!”

The high-pitch scream she gives startles Dean awake but Castiel can’t tear his eyes away from the sheer pain in the demon. Not thorns. Not evil or hate. Not beauty. Just pain and fear. 

Demons were torn apart in Hell so that pain is something they do not fear. He’s not seen her so expressive and yet out of control before. But now that pain and fear are mixed in a volatile combination and he’s out of his depth. Her hands shake and she beats at her head repeatedly. “I want to go back.”

Dean and Sam glance at each other and Dean clears his throat, eyeing the demon knife speculatively but Sam shakes his head, pointing at Castiel. Meg ignores the looks and her eyes lock on the angel still sitting beside her. Reaching out, he gingerly touches her other hand. This time the resigned defeat there in her face is pinpoint and real, like the edge of a knife that twists deeper than it should, and he knows that he would have better accepted her hatred than this shadow he’s pulled free from Lethe.

“I’m sorry.” For the first time, an angel means the words when spoken to a demon.

~~~

  
_‘and if from seeing smoke we argue there is fire_ _then this forgetfulness would clearly prove_ _your faulty will had been directed elsewhere.’_ _Purgatorio_ XXXIII

 


	2. Surface (When Demons are Resurrected)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Meg’s initial shock and anger at having been ripped from Oblivion she enters a near catatonic state. Castiel vows to help her through her apparent withdrawal from paradise, but doesn’t know where to begin.

__based off this[Meme](http://teaandchess.tumblr.com/post/46944536041/clarencetheunicorn-ill-watch-over-you-as)_ _

* * *

 

**Surface (When Demons are Resurrected AU) _  
_**

_“What have you done to me?”_  
    “I brought you back.”   
    The sight of the tiny woman in the windowsill should have been peaceful.   
    Calm, quiet and right.  
    But it wasn’t. There was a world wrong with her, an endless pit of it, and it was all just under the surface, as if someone had dropped a mask over her face to try to hide the cracks showing through. There wasn’t the slightest sign that she felt the sun pouring through the dirty window or cared that the breeze through the broken frame was ice cold.  
    For all that anyone could have been watching, she was dead to the world.  
    Dean wondered if knifing her would have been a mercy and he had never imagined that he would give Meg mercy.  
    “She just sits there. Has since you all brought her here a couple of days ago.”  
    Kevin’s voice was loud in the quiet hull, making Dean jump in place though Meg did not even look around. The younger man was hunched over his slice of the tablet, running one finger over its worn edges as he tried to read. Dean’s arrival hadn’t stopped him in his translation and he wasn’t ready to stop yet.  
    “Garth is pissed, you know. Said that a hunter guarding a demon is against the laws of nature. Was going to yell at Cas and everything but he’s not been around except to see her at weird hours when Garth isn’t around.”  
    “Yeah well, Garth is doing it for me and I’m doing it for Cas. He’ll get over it.” Dean glanced over his shoulder and stared at the dark head bent close to the lamplight. “You really don’t care about her being here?”  
    Kevin shrugged. “Never had a problem with Meg. She never lied to me, never really tried to hurt me. Garth is upset though; he tried using Mr. Fizzles on her and she set the sock on fire. We had to have a mini funeral before he went to Wal-Mart and bought himself a new sock.” Giving up on focussing for a second, Kevin turned around in his chair and tapped his pen against his chin as he stared at Meg. “Cas really pulled her out of Hell?”  
    “No.” Dean looked back at the demon. “Not Hell. Some other place I didn’t even know existed.”  
    “Someplace worse than Hell?” Kevin whistled before turning back around. “No wonder she’s like that.”  
    “I’m not sure it was worse,” Dean muttered. He hadn’t forgotten Meg’s strange, distressed screams or the way Castiel had apologized to her so quietly. He hadn’t forgotten her desperate pleas for Sam to kill her if Castiel wouldn’t. When Sam had stared in silence, confused, she’d almost thrown herself on Dean to try to force him to fight and in his disgust and shock he’d only held her still until Castiel had peeled her off.  
    Meg, desperate enough to ask for help, more desperate to die… that always spelled trouble.  
     Taking another long drink of his beer, Dean stared at the back of Meg’s hair, still stained with blood and knotted carelessly at her nape.   
    The day an angel apologized to a demon and meant it? The apocalypse must be coming again.  
  


* * *

  
    Castiel never came to the old houseboat when Mrs. Tran was around. Though he was aware of Dean’s friendly affection for the older woman, being badgered with questions and now her badly hidden distrust about Meg was nothing he wanted to deal with. She was a bit awe-inspiring to deal with and he sometimes felt a little overwhelmed by her force. It was easier to wait for her to leave with Garth.  
    He needed to focus on Meg anyway.  
    “Hey, Cas,” Kevin called out from where he was stretched out on a bunk, sitting up the moment he heard the flutter of cloth and wings. “You just missed Dean. Him and Sam are hunting a Wendigo.”  
    “Yes, I know.” Castiel put down the bag he’d been carrying and stared at Kevin’s drawn, almost aged face. “You’re ill?”  
    “I’m fine. Take care of your demon again and let me sleep.” Kevin rolled back over and buried his head under a pillow, essentially ending the conversation. Though Castiel suspected that he eavesdropped and told Dean what he heard. Which, for a human, wouldn’t be much.  
    Meg still sat in the windowsill where he’d left her, her head tilted against the glass pane and watching the way the rain fell against the pane. Only wearing one of Sam’s old plaid shirts that hung well past her knees and a pair of boxers Dean had given up, she was a pitiful sight from the time when she’d taken pains to look beautiful to the humans. Her odd coloured hair, knotted from blood and reeking so strong of smoke that he could smell it from across the room, draped over her face.  
    “I’m back,” he announced unnecessarily, crossing the swaying floor slowly and picking up the first aid kit on his way. The only sign she’d heard him was that a slight twitch of her hand on her bare knee. The bandages he’d wrapped around her old wounds were already crusted over and he shook his head unhappily. “You need your bandages changed.”  
    He was talking mostly to himself but a muffled voice piped up, “She wouldn’t let Garth near her after that Mr. Fizzles episode.”  
    Castiel had the feeling the less he knew about this Mr. Fizzles the better.  
    “Go back to sleep, Kevin.” He bent his head and nearly had to force his will on the prophet but just after he spoke there was a loud snore and rattle from Kevin. The prophet was exhausted and it didn’t take much power to get him sound asleep. Content that they were more alone now, Castiel took one of the chairs and set it down in front of Meg’s place at the window.  
    “You’ve been sleeping?”  
    No answer. He hadn’t expected one. Reaching out he took her hand in his and turned it over, looking at the broken nails and bloody fingers. Deep scratch marks raked from the back of her hand to her palm; the angry red wounds were fresh and painful to look at.   
    “These weren’t here yesterday, Meg,” Castiel murmured, eyes going to her face. Meg sighed and still looked out the window, her expression of wane hopelessness. The angel turned her hand over and traced the fresh wound in the centre of her palm with his finger. “Why did you do it?”  
    The demon still stared away from him but he felt her tense a little when he dabbed antiseptic on the marks.  
    “I wish you’d scream or snap at me.” He began to wrap her hand again with the gauze. “Anything. I never thought I’d miss your terrible jokes even.”  
    Meg said nothing so he kept wrapping and spoke a continuous low litany to her. His words were nonsense really. She wasn’t listening and the longer he spoke the more he felt her withdraw. His voice didn’t seem to be helping her. The demon was a shade of what she’d once been and he struggled to ignore the change.  
    He remembered being in the hospital. When he’d screamed and raged and then withdrew from the world. She’d always talked at him, growled and cursed and made the worst situation lighter. She’d lingered when others would have run from an angelic rage. He’d been able to focus on her voice then. It had grounded him.      
    It was familiar now that he realized she needed him. Differently than Dean, differently than Sam, and very differently from the mission. She didn’t want his help or his attempts at redemption but he thought she needed it to forget the pain of her afterlife.  
    “You were right though.” He felt her stare riveted on him suddenly and he sighed, hiding a smile. He’d thought that would get her attention. “Things were simpler when we first met. When everything was black and white. I never thought I’d be wrapping a demon’s wounds while trying to get her to talk to me. To tell me why she didn’t want me to bring her back.”  
    He bent and bit off the remainder of the gauze with his teeth, nose brushing her skin when he didn’t move fast enough. Meg recoiled a little but he ignored her movement though it did a weird thing to his stomach. He discreetly checked her other wounds, the internal ones inflicted by Crowley, ones he was still trying to figure out about why they wouldn’t heal. When he looked up, she was still staring at him, caged and angry beneath that placid surface.  
    “Where did you go?” he asked, blue eyes searching her battered face and finding nothing there. “Where are you now?”  
 

* * *

  
    It had been a week since he’d rebound her wounds and then left her with Garth once more. Dean hadn’t liked owing the thin Hunter favours but he’d done it for the angel all the same, despite his grumbling and complaints. Castiel just wasn’t sure what to do with her. They were fighting a war against angels and demons now, and he couldn’t afford to stay in one place. Travelling all over Earth, looking for some place where the angel tablet could be safe, some place where he could rest… none of it did him any good.  
    His problems were no longer that simple and Meg had become part of them.  
    The longer he looked at her, the deeper that realization went.   
    “You’re cold out here.”  
    Somehow Garth had managed to move Meg to top deck and she was still there at night when Castiel showed himself after an hour of watching her from afar. She didn’t turn around, just sat still and quiet.  
    Lost.  
    Grabbing an old blanket from the rail, Castiel kept one eye on the door to the engine room as he crossed over and stared down at her. Barely dressed for the weather, her clothing was damp and clung to her, her hair stringy and a miserable mess of knots and dull lanky locks. Slowly unfolding the blanket, he tucked it close around her. He felt her shoulders tighten just a little under his touch before he let her go and sat carefully beside her. Technically, demons didn’t need be warm anymore than angels but he wanted to feel better about having her out here.  
    Wanted to feel like he could still protect something.           
    “Garth said you seemed to like being on the water, looking out over it. That you were less upset up here.” Castiel felt like every word created a deeper sense of tension between them. It was a tension he couldn’t cut. “Do you like being here?”  
    For a moment, he thought she was going to answer.  
    Without a word to him, Meg stood up and walked back down below deck, the blanket falling from her tiny body and into the water.  
    Castiel stared back out over the river and disappeared in the next heartbeat.

* * *

  
    “She can’t stay here.” Garth crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s bad for my rep.”  
    “Your rep?” Dean asked incredulously, holding up a hand to keep Castiel quiet. “Garth, you use a sock puppet to interrogate. Your ‘rep’ can’t be any more damaged.”  
    Garth glared at him. “That’s not my point. Whatever she is, it ain’t something I need here.”  
    “Wait, what do you mean ‘whatever she is’?” Sam pointed out. “She’s a demon. She was in Hell.”  
    “You ever see a demon go back to Hell and come back like her?” Garth snapped.  
    Meg still sat in the windowsill, staring out, and didn’t appear to care that they were discussing her. She’d been there for the past few hours and even though they shouted at one another, there’d been nothing from the demon who once would have been in the middle of it all. Either she didn’t hear them or she didn’t care. None of the humans cared; she was a problem to them that needed to be fixed.  
    Her hands flexed a little though and Castiel felt himself bristling a little because for a moment he saw her actually react.  
    She was itching to get to that demon knife Sam had set down on the table while cleaning his weapons.  
    Castiel put himself between her and the table discreetly and her head lifted.   
    “Don’t be stupid.” Garth gestured at the silent demon. “Wherever she went, it wasn’t Hell and it scrambled her circuits.”  
    “Purgatory?” Dean offered and Sam shook his head.  
    “That was for monsters. Not demons. Makes sense God would think of something for Demons though. Right, Cas?”  
    They all turned to find angel and demon staring at one another. It was impossible to guess why and Castiel’s stone-wall of an expression gave them nothing. It was Meg who looked away first.  
    Then, with a small strangled sound, she slammed her fist into the glass window and shattered it into shards.   
  


* * *

  
    Dean didn’t like it. Didn’t like the thought of a useless has-been demon on their hands but Castiel had begged. For once he had begged Dean for help with something that did not pertain to angels or the Winchesters.  
    That quiet desperation in his voice had tugged at Dean’s soft spot for the angel.  
    So Meg was to be put in the equivalent of a panic room in their Hall and left alone unless Castiel was there to keep her controlled.  
    It was the only thing any of them could think of since neither Sam nor Dean wanted to chance trusting her.  
    In the main library, Dean watched Castiel patiently wrap the last of Meg’s wounds which stubbornly refused to heal. They’d put together a ‘demon girl’ care package for him and the moment the demon had been set down he’d taken her as his responsibility. _With a disturbing amount of enthusiasm_ , Dean thought while he rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw.  
    “I think killing her might do it. Get Cas back to normal.”  
    Sam shook his head. “Doubt it.”  
    Dean looked at his brother and gave him a troubled look. “Why are you so hard up on NOT killing her, Sam?”  
    “Because.” Sam coughed discreetly into the already blood stained handkerchief. “We used to take better care of people who died for us. Like it or not, that’s what she did. Remember?”  
    Hearing Castiel murmur again to Meg to hold still, Dean shut his eyes. “Never thought that would apply to a demon again.”  
    “We’re not demons, Dean. Or monsters.” Sam uncrossed his legs and stood up from his favourite old chair. “I think you forget that sometimes.”  
    He walked away from Dean and missed his brother’s pained expression.

* * *

  
    Aware of the Winchesters leaving him, first Sam and then Dean, Castiel fished through the bag he had packed for Meg. It had been strange, finding things for a woman and a demon, but he thought he did a fair enough job finding what she might need.  He watched Meg flinched as he crouched beside her spot on the floor again. The bookshelves that loomed around them made her seem tiny and even he felt a bit small now.   
    “I found this for you.”  
    Almost eagerly, he held it out to show her.  
    It was a gossip magazine, one of those ridiculous ones he didn’t understand because apparently a celebrity’s weight mattered to people who never met them, and he was sure it was one he’d seen her reading now and again. For some reason, the demon liked them though she never explained why. Her eyes locked on the page and he put it in her lap gently. Meg touched the pages, as if she longed to open them, and then stopped herself before turning a single one.  
    “I could read it to you?” he offered tentatively, glad to see a reaction.  
    Meg’s eyes lifted to his and then, with a subtle twist of her hands, she picked up the magazine and tore it in two, tossing it at his feet. Her expression didn’t waver. Castiel stared at the pile of glossy pages that were scattered on the floor before he slowly slid to his buttocks across from her, leaning against the other shelf.  
    “Where did you go?” he whispered as he stared at her. The same question he asked before and the same one he still didn’t know the answer to.   
    Meg only stared him down.

* * *

  
    He lost himself in a meditative trance, more to pass the time than anything else. Easier to do than wait for humans to get their sleep or demons to stop their own catatonia.  
    The only reason why he snapped out of it was the feel of thin fingers going inside his coat. The invasion was cold and abrupt, deliberate. Before opening his eyes, his hand wrapped around the thieving grip and he jerked his head up to see Meg kneeling just across from him. Her eyes, black and flat like a caged animal, stared down at him as she brandished the angel sword between them, only his hand keeping her from stabbing him.  
    For a second, he thought he understood.  
    “Would it make it better?” he asked and he let her go, feeling the point of it press just against his shirt and skin.  
    Meg stared at the tip of the blade on his otherwise pristine dress shirt and then with a fierce look she dug it in. It went far enough that he felt a spark of pain as blood and light began to weep from the wound. It took all his will not to slap her away but something in the way her face changed just a little, from hard and angry to afraid, made him wonder.  
    Meg dropped the blade and launched herself back from him, almost shaking as she curled up next to the book shelf again.  
    

* * *

  
    It didn’t take much to find Death. The entity enjoyed going to the smaller souls really and he let his Reapers do the majority of the more glorified work. The less significant ones he enjoyed because he somehow found them more significant in their simplicity. Knowing this, Castiel simply waited by the bedside of a dying dementia patient, long neglected by family, and wondered if he was making a mistake. But just before he gave into his fear and escaped, reality began to warp around the room the moment the patient took her last breath.  
    “The last time I saw you…”  Death appeared in the doorway, thin face pulled into a fierce scowl. “You were more saturated than a sponge and mostly mad with stupidity.”  
    Castiel stood up from the uncomfortable chair he’d been sitting on and bowed his head in respect. The way a duellist might to a respected enemy and judging by the smirk Death gave him it amused the creature.  
    “So. Castiel. Why are you waiting for me? It is not your time yet.” Death checked his watch. “Is it because of your Winchester and his brother again?”  
    Those expressionless eyes fixed on Castiel’s face as he flipped the watch closed again. Whatever he read there made him shake his head.  
    “I see.” He stepped into the room and sat on the hospital bed in a graceful mood that somehow made Castiel long to run far and away from him. “You are here for a different sort of thing. A different sort of devotion.”  
    “I need to ask you a question.”  
    “She’s not mad, if that was the question.” Death waved a hand. “Your little pet demon. I know all about her. I doubt there is a god or angel or demon alive, that has eyes and half a brain, who isn’t aware of the strangeness going on with the pair of you. She’s not mad and not really redeemed. Not really.” The bleak stare pinned Castiel in his place. “Are you sweet on her, Castiel, is that what this is about? Do you care for her? Love her even if you remember how to love without sheer obedience to a cause? This one who is a demon, a tortured soul? How utterly poetic and thoroughly tragic. I enjoy such dramatics.”  
    “She deserved better than that death.”  
    “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was needed.” Death didn’t wait for the angel to interrupt. “But you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. You disrupted the natural order of things. You stole a soul. Again. Third time is the charm. What is it with you, Castiel? Can you not respect the way things must be?”  
    Castiel didn’t like to be reminded of Sam and Dean when dealing with Death.  
    “Where did she go?”  
    Death cocked his head on the side curiously.  
    “When I pulled her out from whatever torture she was in and into the body she had taken…”  
    “Pulled her out? Oh no, Castiel. You ripped her out. You yanked her out kicking and screaming. In the end, I think you’ll find that you were the one who tortured her. Worse than any demon could imagine and in a way many never experience.” Death stood up and began to pluck imaginary lint off his black suit. “Demons are not angels. They do not go to God’s self to be absorbed as light once more. They do not go to Heaven when dead and rarely return to Hell. Nor are they monsters, where God created a special cage for that failed experiment of their half-blood selves.”  
    “Demons were human and…”  
    “They were. They were tortured past most endurance, twisted, and in my opinion some were actually perfected.” The entity moved over to the window past Castiel. “She would have been removed to a place of forgetfulness. A personal favourite of mine, a crowning achievement of my speciality if you will. It has been in existence as long as souls have been in existence. So it is as old as God, as Creation, as Death itself. Run by another ancient entity who does their job, as we all do.”  
    “But if she couldn’t go to Heaven and couldn’t go to Hell.” Castiel struggled to keep up. Demons had, for the most part, been shrouded in a little bit of secrecy for their afterlife.   
    Death gave him a thoroughly exasperated look.  
    “Do you not forget one very large personality flaw of the Father you so loved? He loves so absolutely that he is willing to forgive all sins, somehow and eventually.”  
    Death drew a smiley face on the glass with his bony finger. “Lethe. A sort of therapy center. Directly alongside Hell and just under Heaven.”  
    “You made her forget,” Castiel whispered, voice tight with anger though it wasn’t at Death. Realizing what he’d done in his arrogance made him want to take it all back.  
    Even if it meant losing her.  
    “Lethe washes them clean. It takes some time of course. New demons are recycled quickly but old ones such as Meg? They take some additional effort and care. Like scrubbing out blood stains on pavement with a toothbrush.” Death struck his fingers through the glass drawing to erase it and frowned. “There she would have felt a love and protection she would not have felt since before she was damned. Love and protection, forgiveness and forgetfulness. That is the nature of Lethe. As long as it takes, it happens to them all. Even the ancients, who take the longest, forget and are welcomed back to God’s good graces eventually. She did start to forget, you know. Everything. Every sin, every deed, every loyalty and pain.”  
    Death looked at the most hopeless pair of blue eyes he’d seen in a long time. “She’d forget every hope, desire, and love.”  
    The angel understood perfectly what Death meant.  
    “Well done, Castiel. You managed to cock it all up once again. You’ll learn eventually but please hurry up.”  
    He was gone before Castiel could respond, before he could think of anything. Left him with only a corpse and a destroyed happy face on glass.

* * *

  
    Sprawled on the cot, Meg stared at the ceiling of the basement panic room and with just one tiny frown it was obvious that she longed.  
    Longed to finally sleep and drink.  
    Castiel leaned against the doorway and watched her.  
    “I’m sorry.”  
    She twitched a little but refused to look at him.  
    “I know where you were.” The angel took slow, measured steps towards the cot, circling the devil’s trap warily. “Lethe.”  
    For the first time in weeks, Meg moved fast. She launched herself off the bed and met the invisible barrier at full speed. Castiel grabbed her before she could be thrown to the floor and stepped into the trap. He warded off her nails and teeth, felt her anger rolling off her and for the first time he knew she felt something too.  
    “You were in Oblivion,” he continued over her snarling whimpers and angry punches, half-buried in the depths of his overcoat. “You were happy. They took care of you so that you didn’t have to worry and so that you felt loved. I took you from that. I stole you back. And I’m sorry.”  
    Meg stopped fighting, as if the apology had drained her, and he simply walked her back to her cot and sat her down. Like a patient father about to tuck a child in, he smoothed her tangled hair back from her face.   
    “I can’t take it back.” His fingers just gripped her chin and he tilted her head up. “Look at me.”  
    The demon looked away and fixed her eyes on the floor, so he simply stooped down and looked at her averted face. “I wanted you back and I’m going to see this through until you can fight with us again. Until you can forgive me.”  
    Leaning forward, he awkwardly just pressed against her and could almost sense her rolling her eyes.  
    “I’ll take care of you.” He felt her exhale against his collarbone. “I’ll watch over you, as you did me. Until we’re both ready.”  
  


* * *

  
    “It’s weird, watching these two.” Dean almost felt like throwing up. “Like watching a… a grown man with a doll fetish.”  
    Sam almost choked on his coffee. “Ugh, really, Dean?”  
    “I mean, yeah, if it was maybe you it would be cutesy disgusting. But with them? Weird disgusting.”  
    They both looked over at where Castiel was patiently trying to clean the last of Meg’s long-standing wounds. He muttered to her to tilt her head this way and that, checked her remaining bruises, and generally fussed over her. Both Winchesters wouldn’t have been surprised if, after the past few weeks, he mother-henned the demon to death and somehow used his wings to shield her from them. But she had a patient look on her usually blank face and, seeing that tiny tilt she did with her head, Sam could have sworn he’d seen a smirk.  
        “Weird,” he agreed.

* * *

  
    Castiel waited until Sam and Dean were gone and asleep before he attempt to brush Meg’s hair in the common room. The TV, set to some public station, blared in the background just to act as a white noise. The act of brushing her hair, to him, was startlingly simple yet intimate and he’d realized that the first time he’d done it for her. Her hair was, thanks to an oddly kind move by Dean in purchasing the soap, back to the clean waves she’d loved and he actually didn’t mind this odd human duty as he ran the brush through now silky strands. She’d done it for him occasionally in the hospital but he didn’t remember how it’d felt then.  
    It seemed to soothe her a little and he’d made it one of his jobs as her caretaker.  
    But of all the things he did for her, for the Winchesters as well now, this one he didn’t have to think about and Meg didn’t seem to care that he would lose himself in thought as he took care of her.  
    He almost wished she did. After weeks of silence and an eerie sense of tension, he was ready for a fight.  
    He longed for once just to see if she was feeling a thing beyond apathy. But Meg simply sat across from him on the couch and leaned into the brush a little, just enough to let him know she was aware of him while she closed her eyes.  
    “You’ve been quiet.” He slowed the brush and gently checked her face. He talked more around her now than he had before. He had to fill that silence somehow when it made him a bit nervous to see her staring at him. “Well, or so to speak. You’ve always been quiet these past weeks, you know, but even under everything it is so still. I do miss the thorniness. Even if you were just telling me to shut up most of the time.”  
    He bent his head and missed the way her eyes opened. She watched the way his knees shifted on either side of hers, listened to the soft hum of his breathing, and finally she shifted a little so that she slid off the couch a little towards him. Castiel stopped the soothing motion of the brush and she felt him suck in a breath at her movement.  
    “You too, huh?”  
    Castiel didn’t miss that soft mutter and he stared at the side of her face. Ignoring his expression, Meg stared at the television advertising holiday films. She stared as if riveted and he slowly leaned forward, brush dropping to the floor with a clatter.  
    “Meg?”  
    “I named you after a Christmas movie, remember?” Meg said and he looked as well at the screen. Some overly loud woman was screeching about saving ten dollars off classic movies since it was still just the late spring.  
    “No, I…”  
    The black and white picture flickered and distorted just as a tall skinny man came on.    
_“Clarence! Clarence! Help me, Clarence! Get me back! Get me back, I don’t care what happens to me!”_  
    Castiel slowly looked back at Meg to see her staring at him intently.  
    “Remember, Clarence?”  
    What he saw in her for just a moment nearly stole his breath. For him, to see the bright depths masked within the darkness of her thorns and pain was beautiful.   
    “Meg.”


	3. Sweet Oblivion (When Demons Dream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel’s frustrations with Meg’s indifference begin to collide with his intentions to take care of her, with neither knowing just what it was he unleashed when he pulled her from the Lethe.

###  **[AU Meme ](http://demonofdiscord.tumblr.com/post/47059646851/are-you-sure-you-want-to-do-this-youre) **

_  
_ **Sweet Oblivion (When Demons Dream AU)  
**

**Part 1**

He was unsettled.

He hadn’t been unsettled since God had decided that another race with free will would be entertaining and that had been a rather tumultuous experiment to say the least.

There was only one entity left who could disturb Death himself and it was nothing that remained on Earth or any of the realities attached to his power.

Unsettled but he was too old to feel fear of this place.

Death had seen visions of loveliness, purity and beauty, time and time again and not once had they ever affected him. Perhaps the closest thing had been the first time he’d seen a black-hole rip apart a star hungrily but beyond that, he found the majority of creation boring. Black holes were not even exactly God’s doing anyway. So he had little to be excited by when it came to his assignments.

He found the humans, God’s favourites in the young galaxy he’d reserved for his experiments, boring. He found angels boring. He found demons boring. Monsters? Maybe interesting to see them cause chaos but ultimately: boring. 

They all did the same thing.

They all died.

But even a jaded entity such as he could find a beauty in the intricate architecture at the centre of Lethe. That sense of reality here changed so constantly that he knew it wouldn’t last long. Lethe was gathering from his most recent visits on Earth to try to warp to suit what it thought he would like. The windows that pointed out to the pristine beaches, framed in iron and ice, the high walls and the furniture pulled together to give an illusion of freedom.  It was a protective cocoon against harsh reality on its own. The entirety of Lethe was beautifully designed to give an illusion of absolute comfort and freedom.

Perhaps that was why he knew that the lie of it was very beautiful in its utter complexity.

The soft flow of light moving through the room caught his attention. It circled around the room, wrapped around him in a warm embrace before leaving. With a soft hum, it settled inside his dark shadow and began to piece together a shape from its own chaos.

The woman it revealed was beautiful though it was just a mask to what “she” was. Auburn blonde hair curled, fashionable wear likely plucked from the minds of those in the Lethe, tiny frame deceptive and her eyes black before slowly going to brown. Her face was the very image of the creature Death himself had reaped months before after an unfortunate episode with the King of Hell.

Red lips parted in a smile and she pirouetted like a dancer, her white gown floating around her bare feet. “Do you like it? It is very comfortable.”

“I had thought you disliked the idea of human form. Of taking shape from Chaos,” he said, bored with her looks. But he nodded anyway. “It suits you.”

“Mm, so I thought. Yours is disgustingly thin. You could wear a pretty girl face as well.”

Not even God would talk to him in such a way but then again, only Oblivion was on the same standing as Death himself. She still found some delight in such things.

“You called me here. I was very busy but you were rather loud in my thoughts.” He took a seat on a low Roman-style couch and set his bag on the floor, nudging it underneath so she couldn’t touch it if she tried. “Why?”

“The angel found his demon.” Oblivion looked at the ceiling as she slowly walked around him. “I felt it. The moment he… touched her.”

“So you are connected. I had wondered.” Death watched her graceful movements. “Yes. He came to me, as I said he would. As you had thought. He wanted answers and I told him the truth. As usual. But his mind is still so young he is barely able to understand what he needed to ask.”

Oblivion’s dark eyes flicked over him and a reddish brow arched. “You like him.”

“He amuses me. A very contradictory creature. No God to be sure but his ever expanding role does make me wonder what exactly God had planned for him.” Death crossed his legs and put his hand on his knee. “Why did you allow him to touch her through the Lethe? A thing no angel could do nor would you let them. You’re remarkably possessive sometimes.”

She checked her arm as if looking at the hour on an invisible watch.

“Time is up for our small talk. As of now.” With a snap of her fingers, Oblivion threw the room into brilliant white relief and Death blinked at his new surroundings. Instead of archways and almost gothic structure, it was pure white from top to bottom, as if she’d put him in a bubble. At his feet were ten tablets laid out in order and he nudged the one with his toe. The first five were black, the remaining five were white, but all of them were familiar.

“You kept your copies in beautiful condition.” He eyed them. “Metatron always did have such a way with words if not a little obsessed with them.”

“The contracts for all of those on Earth are coming to a close, with each clause and exception having been fulfilled. The experiment will end soon.”

Death read over one and then another. Ah, he’d forgotten about those ones; failed but entertaining creatures. 

“He left before they could be fulfilled,” Death commented as he looked at the white tablets.

Oblivion stood across from him, and when he wasn’t looking she swept her skirts over the last tablet so that it disappeared. Death kept his eyes on the other tablets and pretended not to notice.

“He was a coward. Sentimental old fool.”

Love tinged her words and Death sighed. Oblivion loved deeply and easily any subject she knew. She cared for the rotten souls left over by the choice pickings of Heaven and Hell and had been at peace doing so. Until recently when the Apocalypse had been averted. Then she’d been changing things.

She was incredibly set on her purpose.

“He’s gone soft, knowing what would eventually happen. Lucifer’s actions only sped it all up but the Winchesters may be bringing it about anyway.”

“What will happen soon is what I want. I’m annoyed, brother.” She shook her head. “I know you are as well. These souls, they are all hungry for redemption and protection and I give it to them, only for that world to destroy them all over again. When I became part of her, I felt it more than others.”

“We had an agreement.” Death was scolding her, wanting to make her see his reasons for not interfering. 

“And he broke it long ago in abandoning them all. It is time we took control.” There was viciousness in the curve of her smile. “It is why I let her go when the angel called for her, his own almost-Eurydice. But every soul has a cost to be paid. You know that and I know that.”

“I am not in the business of orchestrating such things. I am merely here to maintain the natural order of things. You know that.” Death stared at the demon tablet. Knowing what it would mean when it was followed to the letter. Like Oblivion, he had each tablet and its clause memorized. Most especially the ones were his role was the only logical conclusion.

“The demon tablet will be the start of it all and the last of it all. He tried to break me down with laws and rules and stupidity.” Oblivion threw her hands up in disgust. “It has been an annoying wait as he’s found a way to worm out of every deal by removing himself from the setting. So I rearranged the order of the contracts.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, voice bored but his eyes sharp on her face. 

“You’re interrupting. I am being brilliant.”

“There’s no coming back from…”

“Me?” Their eyes met and this time her smile was beautiful in its agony and sadness. “Only on very special occasions.”

* * *

 

Meg let the water run over her and listened to the slow drum of the open faucet, felt the way the hot water cleaned and scalded her skin. The Winchesters had bragged long enough about their ‘water pressure’ that she’d snuck in here during one of their frequent arguments about the trials. 

It felt good to actually be clean, rather than one of those ridiculous sponge baths she knew that Castiel had carefully done, and it gave her time to think. It was easier to think when she was alone without a doe-eyed guardian angel and two oversized Labradoodles, one trying to very hard to make her feel anything at all and the other two annoyed at her hanging around.

Neither of the men down below knew just how loud they were on a daily basis. 

It was easier to be alone in her own head, now that the meatsuit was empty and she didn’t have another soul riding along with her. Poor little actress was somewhere, likely in Lethe: a human that’d been neither good nor bad, just in between. Meg hadn’t pitied her when she took her but she did miss the company of the little fighter she’d been.

_Lucky stiff got to stay._

As water ran over the curve of her stomach and down the smoothness of her legs, giving her icy skin a slight bit of warmth, she leaned her head on the bathtub ledge. It felt strange, to force herself to relax and struggle to understand why she wanted to return to a place for protection.

She’d never thought as demon, after centuries of blood and pain and torture she’d want that again.

**You are safe here. There will be no more pain. You’ll be ready soon. Rest.**

_That voice._

Suspiciously familiar, that voice in her own head. Ringing true and painful but… different. 

“Why am I here?” Meg moaned and slowly submerged herself down into the water. It covered her head, lapped over the edges of the tub, and she closed her eyes as her hair floated around her in snaky tendrils.

**So beautiful. So loyal. Utterly loyal and yet you were very different than the others I chose. You’re unique, Meg.**

That voice was rough suddenly, sounding sexless but rough with disuse. It sounded protective of her. Curious even. It brought everything back to painful clarity, things she’d wanted to forget.

_Floating in water… protected…_

_This was like Lethe. Peaceful and maybe if she drank enough she wouldn’t hurt._

“Meg?” a garbled voice, deepened by the water, broke through her concentration. “You should get out soon.”

Meg opened her eyes under the water and saw Castiel leaning over the edge of the bathtub, his face blurred by the ripples. Gasping, she swallowed a lungful of water and hauled herself back up, sending a wave of water in an arc around them. The angel didn’t move though the spray soaked his coat. He still leaned over her when she shivered and clutched the edge of the tub, pressing herself a little into him to steady herself. He let her shiver and cough up water, but the entire time she felt his eyes on her.

Unnervingly kind.

“Damn it.” She rubbed at her throat and turned over in the tub to hide her nudity from him. Castiel didn’t flinch, didn’t appear to notice her pale skin; he just moved back and sat on the edge of the tub. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you. You were not downstairs where you are supposed to be when I’m gone.”  _In the demon cell,_ went unspoken and she knew he had an aversion to admitting that was what the open-door cage they kept her in was. Castiel looked at her closely and she covered her breasts with her arms, not sure why the look on his face made her feel self-conscious. She hadn’t felt that in centuries. It wasn’t that he looked at her with lust, since that was rarely an emotion he showed; there was something else there that made her uncomfortable. 

“You wouldn’t get far if you tried to leave. Crowley is looking for the tablet and so are the angels. You’d be found easily.”

“Not like I can leave anyway. It’s been a few days since you were here last and I was stir-crazy. I wanted a bath and the Winchesters weren’t around.” Meg scrambled to get her towel but he was sitting on it, either consciously or unconsciously sitting there. He was oblivious that her tugs on the material were to try to move him. 

“I’ve been occupied but I thought I could spare the time. Since you didn’t want me around as I recall.”

_That old argument again,_ Meg thought as she glared at her unwanted guardian angel. “I said you needed to stop breathing down my neck. I’m a big girl. Able to walk. Would likely stab things too if you let me.”

“It’s not been that long. I’m worried.”

 Unable to take it, Meg stood up from the water and stared down at him. Almost daring him to look. To his credit, his eyes remained on her face while she dripped water back into the tub, her hair clinging to her face and back and her skin glistening. When she stepped out of the tub, his hand was there, cupping hers and steadying her on the slippery tile when her heat-numbed legs nearly gave out. Meg glanced down her shoulder at him, saw that earnest expression again and had to look away. She pulled her hand free and stood at the bathroom mirror, still dripping water and shivering from the cold draft of the Hall.

“I still don’t know why you are so set on me right now, Cas. Some sort of pet project? A way to get rid of your guilt trip?” Meg stared at the sink, at the razor Dean had left. A quick few slices would kill a human eventually but a demon? No. It would be stupid to try.

Would the pain even help?

Softness wrapped around her from shoulders to thigh as Castiel draped the big fluffy towel around her. His movements were slow around her, like always; not that he was afraid she would break but because he knew she could bolt in a second and Meg always tensed whenever a touch become too long. His arms wrapped around her, ignoring the warning look she shot him through the mirror while he gently arranged the towel so she was covered from shoulder to knee. He consumed his attention with her protection and fixed it around her slight body in a tight wrap against the cold. Not changing expression, he briskly rubbed a spare small towel over her arms and shoulders.

Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and relaxed until the dampness was nearly gone. 

Castiel noticed the subtle lean in her body back into him as he meticulously rubbed. He ignored it, more set on absorbing himself in a task to forget what he had done in the past few days to be sure the Winchesters and the tablets stayed safe. At times, he didn’t feel much more than a sense of purpose when he was with any of them and though it was unsettling to be in that role once more, it also centered him to be a guardian for them all.

Meg shifted her neck to the side, cracking it a little, and he saw the fragile line of muscle and realized how easy it could be to kill her. Wondered if she still wanted that by the way she almost kept pushing him to do something, frustrating him. Though Castiel knew he’d not be able to do that. 

That was more out of a sense of cruelty, because he wanted her close to ground him, than from a sense of mercy.

When his fingers combed through her tangled hair next, the brief spark of pain from a snag woke her up from her daze. Immediately, her guard was up and building like an invisible wall between them. Meg lifted her head to watch him in the reflection of the mirror, saw his concentration and wondered.

“Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?” she whispered, voice almost breaking because knowing the answer would hurt all the more. The familiar question made Castiel look up and into the mirror, into her eyes. Just as quickly, he looked away.

“I don’t know.”

He was gone just before she turned around and it wasn’t lost on her that he now trusted her with that makeshift weapon still in the room.

* * *

 

Chuck wiped his hand down his face and sighed, shakily taking another bottle of whiskey from the medicine cabinet. He felt tired, a long night writing out a bad story having torn at him, and he wanted sleep. Wanted something to ease the hollowness each story created. This last one was so jumbled with so many endings, so many chances, and so many dead to try to bring reason to. He’d murdered off his favourites, and there was no better word for it than murder. All for the sake of his struggle with this damned story because he couldn’t see its conclusion and that was never, ever, how he wrote.

That hadn’t started happening until several months ago when he’d woken with a sense of dread he hadn’t felt since meeting Sam and Dean.

_“Hello.”_

He jumped at the new voice in his head and looked up to see a blob of light in the mirror. It was less a face than an actual feeling that settled in him that he knew this light.

“Who are you?”

_“There is no point in hiding anymore. You have lost what chance you had to stay hiding. It will not ease their suffering anymore and we are done cleaning this mess you made.”_

Chuck laughed nervously. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m insane. Talking to light.”

The light bobbed.  _“Yes, you aren’t lying are you? You’ve deliberately made yourself forget. Denial is so thick that you don’t want to come out to save your precious creatures. Not for an Apocalypse, not for your beloved angels. It is all for your precious story, isn’t it? One you don’t want to end.”_

The light suffused his face. Phantom warmth.

_“Is there anything you actually loved enough to see through to the end?”_

Not sure why, Chuck punched his hand through the glass and screamed.

* * *

 

The sound ricocheted through his head and Castiel bent his head and moaned in pain. It echoed and pulsed and pushed at him. The direct ache it caused in his chest burned. He could still feel everything around him

“Cas?” Dean came in to the common room, holding a mug of coffee. “You okay?”

“Yes, I… I’m simply tired.”

Dean shrugged and nodded at the woman lying on the opposing couch. She was flipping through the TV channels without stopping.  _Click-Click-Click._ Dean found Meg’s new habit of non-stop channel hopping strange and annoying. Castiel had explained that she was looking for something though he didn’t know what.

“You’ve acted like a guard dog over Meg for more than a month now. That would exhaust a saint.” He watched her, wanting her to react, but as ever Meg ignored him. She ignored everyone.

“It isn’t that. Caring for her doesn’t exhaust me,” Castiel muttered. Den gave him an incredulous look that he didn’t notice. “It is something else.”

Dean took a drink and came to sit next to him on the loveseat. “You still worried about her? I mean, yeah evil bitch and all but there’s something weird,” he whispered and Castiel sighed. “You said so yourself that she isn’t the same. Hell, even I can tell something is wrong. Is she even a demon still?”

“She’s been pulled from her version of Heaven. A place where she could forget.” The angel almost spat out the words, full of self-loathing, before he shook his head. “I did the same for you, for Sam, to save you from Hell but I’ve condemned her to another type of Hell.”

Dean watched Meg’s head tilt a little to listen. “Yeah I get it. But, Cas, not everything is your responsibility. There’s no way you could have known.”

Castiel met his eyes and they stared at each other, the words an echo of his own to Dean.

Dean looked away first from that relentless stare and stood up. “Sam is in bed. Keep the TV down will you?”

* * *

 

Sam and Dean knew they were dreaming as one instinctively. After years of hunting together, living together, some things just made too much sense. When Sam showed up in his dreams, Dean tended to take notice because things like that meant there was something wrong, and Sam only nodded at him to let him know he thought the same. Without words they understood that something was wrong. 

They were in a diner that was empty, reminding Dean of a Chicago restaurant with its old cracked tables and old cushioned benches. Seated next to Dean, Sam stared around himself in confusion. 

“Okay, Dean, I knew that we were getting all brotherly love but this shared dreaming thing? Sucks.” Sam looked around nervously but Dean stared at the man eating. The diner was empty except for a thin, familiar man sitting across from them, happily munching on pickled chips.

“Marionettes. That is what I would have called humans if I had been in charge of naming God’s little ant farm.” Death popped a chip in his mouth. “So. How goes your quest to close the Gates of Hell?”

Dean felt Sam stiffen up beside him but cut him off. “Why are we here?”

“I hardly see how that is important, Dean.” Death eyed him emotionlessly and Dean felt that old familiar fear come screaming through him. “Answer me, Winchesters.”

“Just swell,” Dean ground out, watching the entity wipe his mouth discreetly. “Sam is all wonderfully sick and more people die each day because of us. But I guess you already knew that, right?”

“Cute. Still obstinate as ever. Not everything is about you two though.” Death folded the napkin on the table and regarded Sam steadily through curious eyes. “Ah yes. You are very ill, aren’t you? And you do not even know why or how bad it will become. You won’t die from it, if that is what you are wondering. You may wish for it though. Isn’t that a comfort?” 

Sam licked his lips nervously. Dean looked at his brother and then at Death again. 

“Now listen, we don’t know what you want but,” Dean started but Death interrupted him smoothly.

“Tell me. What do you two know of cooking?”

The absurd question made the Winchesters look at each other stupidly before looking back at Death. 

“Uh… microwaves work wonders. Thanks for asking,” Dean snapped.

Death gave him a bored and condescending look. 

“Cooking?” Sam asked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything. For example, did you know that when you leave the lid on a boiling pot of water, eventually the contents will spill over because there is too much heat to be contained?”

Before either of them could even think of how strange Death looked, how intent and yet secretive behind that passive expression, he sent them hurtling back into their bodies.

* * *

 

Meg moaned and turned on the couch, but she still appeared to be resting. There was faint quiver of movement in her bare legs when she tried to turn over to hide her face in the throw pillow. Her hands clenched into small fists in the blanket he’d covered her with and she buried herself deeper into its warmth.

Hands clasped together, Castiel sat on the coffee table across from her and watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. 

Demons didn’t really need to sleep, he’d thought. So what was different about Meg? The one demon he knew better than most?

Reaching out, he passed his hand over her face and felt her skin actually tingle against his from the contact. The soft moan she gave, as if she was in pain, made him press his fingers against her cheek. She leaned a little into his touch and he rubbed his thumb over the ridge of her jaw. No prickle of anything inside of that meatsuit except her thorny soul, now a fractured darkness split and ripped apart, stitched together but still in such pain. Castiel watched her face and his thumb just brushed her earlobe as he pushed her hair over her shoulder. 

Meg’s eyes slowly opened, as if she was struggling to wake up. She looked at such peace that he smiled at her, glad to see her calm for once, but just as quickly something shuttered over her face, like a drawn curtain. When she saw him so close she jerked her face away from his hand. He watched her pull up on the couch and stare at him while she almost leaned as far as she could away from him.

As if it would erase his touch.

Castiel dropped his hand to his side and flexed his fingers to try to get rid of the sensation of her skin on his. Meg ran her eyes over him and he returned the stare easily.

“You were sleeping, dreaming. What were you dreaming of, Meg?” 

A simple shrug and he felt his frustration over her almost overcome his once endless patience.

She was functioning but she wasn’t completely herself.

“Why won’t you tell me?” he murmured, more to himself, and Meg stared into his eyes.

“Because there is nothing to tell. What you took me from hurts to remember.” Meg pulled her knees up to her chest, the massive sweater she’d stolen from Sam slumping over her bare shoulders. “I was not bad enough to go back to Hell, not good enough to go to Heaven. If this was years ago I’d say you succeeded in punishing me enough.”

Castiel shrugged his shoulders as if to distribute the weight of his own guilt.  “I know.”

“So stop looking at me like that.”

“I can help you.”

“You can barely help yourself, Clarence, let alone your human pets.” Meg snarled and she looked away. “So don’t start with me.”

Unwilling to show how deep that barb went he stared at her instead. Meg fidgeted under that unnerving gaze and slowly he slid his hand across his knee and over the cushion of the couch. Her eyes darted to his long fingers but Castiel watched her for any signs of her about to run. Still moving slowly, he slid them over her bare knee to grasp her hand in his.

Her hand turned just a little, her fingers clenching around his so tight that he had to close his eyes at the peace her grip gave him. They sat in silence until they heard the clang of the upper rooms opening and even then he refused to let her hand go.

He had been so close to finding out.

Meg tugged her hand free and slipped from the couch, a small slip of a demon getting lost in the shadows as she made her way back to her cell.

“Cas?” Sam called out. “We got a lead on Kevin. You coming?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Castiel shook himself. Dean was watching where Meg had gone as well and not too subtlety threw Sam the keys to lock up the weapon closet to keep her from accessing them.


	4. Sweet Oblivion (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel’s frustrations with Meg’s indifference begin to collide with his intentions to take care of her, with neither knowing just what it was he unleashed when he pulled her from the Lethe.

**Sweet Oblivion**

**Part 2**

Chuck swallowed down the last bit of his whiskey bottle and wiped his mouth nervously before trying again. His hands shook as he tapped on the keys and tried to put the words on the screen he’d wanted to write. But the story he’d been trying to tell, of Dean and Sam defeating yet another demon, wasn’t coming to him. Instead he was wanting to write about something else and no matter how hard he tried to get the words out, the worse his block became.

“Oh, what is wrong with me?” Chuck whispered and he dropped his chin towards his chest, frustrations making his eyes feel strained and tired. “I used to be so good at creating.”

He almost felt like throwing his laptop out the window.

Strong arms suddenly slid down his shoulders to curl around his chest, pulling him back in his chair to feel soft breasts and enveloping warmth. Certain he was dreaming, he sighed and leaned back into the warmth, into the arms embracing him. The soft smell of a woman made him smile against his will and all the tension inside of him slowly faded away.

 _“Hush. It’ll come,”_  a gentle voice whispered in his ear and he opened his eyes to see a woman, a rather beautiful woman with auburn blonde hair and dark eyes, staring at him in the window reflection. Her cheek leaned against his temple and in a drugged state he leaned further against her. Her hand lifted to comb gently through his hair, smoothing the mess down.

 _“Who are you?”_  he whispered. She looked familiar. He remembered when he’d had a vision of a character; of the Meg character when he’d brought her back in his transcripts, a character he’d liked, and this woman was the spitting image of her, just more refined. She smiled at him, blood red lips brushing his ear.

 _“It’s been a long time. An eternity of doing what you asked me, because you let me be free to do it,”_  the vision murmured against his cheek. She shifted her hands and held him protectively.  _“I need you to create. To tell me a story. To write me into the story. ”_

He knew her. Beyond the face. Every fibre in him knew this creature. What he felt was love and fear so deeply entwined that he wasn’t sure what made his heart beat faster. But obediently he put his fingers on the laptop keys and started to type.

* * *

 

They were gone for several days, leaving her alone in her cell. A long time to be alone with her thoughts, with her fading memory.

She’d once thought that demons only dreamt when around their creator. But the longer she stayed still, the more she realized that it was because demons were inherently restless that she’d never taken the opportunity to dream before. She didn’t need sleep to dream; she could walk and pace around the basement floor and slip in and out of a dream state.

That it was strange never crossed her mind. She submitted to that strange warm sensation she needed.

**You are content. You are loved. You will be protected.**

It wasn’t leaving her, that memory, so she let herself fall into her waking nightmares of Lethe and it being ripped apart before her eyes. With each step she went back and felt the water running over and through her. So she walked and walked and walked just to keep that sensation.

It was how Castiel found her on his return. A dreamy look on her face and her feet worn from walking so much that the skin was bruised and cracked, blood oozing from a sore. She was ragged looking, with her hair lank on her shoulders, a tangled mess, and her skin almost sallow. But what made him stare was the way she walked: her body moving in slow but jerky rhythm, off balance but with such purpose that he knew it was unnatural. 

Castiel understood the reference of “looked like Hell.”

Behind him, Dean opened his mouth to say something and Castiel promptly shoved him back as Meg passed them again. He waved his hand in front of her face but there was nothing, not even a crackle of power to rebel against his Grace. She just kept walking to the limits of the wards Sam had painted and then she’d turn around to start a new direction.

“You got this one, Cas?” Dean asked and he patted him on the back. Castiel glared over his shoulder at the retreating hunter before turning his attention back to Meg. He waited for her next turn before putting himself in the way.

If he’d had a sense of humour about it, he might have found it hilarious how she banged into him like he was a door. But the impact stopped her and she blinked, staring at his collar owlishly. The dopey haze on her face slowly left and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

“So you’re back.” The blunt words, as if she’d been perfectly aware of him this whole time, made him blink.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Castiel tilted his head on the side and she looked away. “Guess I got a bit used to you around constantly. Mission a success?”

“Hardly. There were complications.”

“Always are.” 

“This is what you do when I’m not around?” Castiel asked curiously. He gestured to her feet and she looked down, exaggerating her sigh. 

“Oh no. I’m just all happy to be here, waiting for my big handsome hero to return to make me feel more like a china doll. Since we can’t all get our protection right the first time,” she drawled, flicking her eyes over his face.

For once, she saw that her sarcasm actually cut him deep. Castiel did a visible flinch, as if she’d struck him, and then the expression left his face to become stony and cold. Before she could dodge him he had hold of her arm and zapped her to the common room with him. He had left the first aid kit there, had learned from previous weeks that her wounds would sometimes reopen, and Meg twisted against the hold on her arm. Ignoring her squirming he dumped her on the couch and seized her feet with his hands around each ankle.

“Grabby much!” Meg hissed, trying to jerk free. Castiel’s head lifted and the look he pinned her with made her shrink back a little in surprise. He’d been annoyingly kind and thoughtful these past weeks; it had lulled her into a sense of sameness and comfort. She’d almost forgotten what he was in the face of such kindness.

Now in those blue eyes she could see the creature just underneath and it was nothing kind and thoughtful. It was the one she’d seen in Holy Fire, the one she’d tasted once before. It seethed and writhed in a mixture of light and righteous fury that coiled around them. He was angry with her and for the first time she felt something more than apathy. She felt instinctive fear; one a demon knew when it was about to die.

“If you won’t tell me,” he grunted as she kicked and caught him in the jaw with her heel, “what it is you want, then I can’t help you.”

“Maybe I just want to be left alone. Fuck!” she shouted as he poured the peroxide over the sores on her foot. They bubbled and hissed as the growing infection was cleansed and he held her tight to keep her down. He lacked kindness this time, lacked any careful care as he slapped salve on her soles and made the skin burn from the disinfectant. It woke her up a little more from the haze she’d been in when dreaming of Lethe.

“I am through being kind to you when you do such things,” Castiel spoke calmly but the underlying current was all fury and frustration. “I have infinite patience. For humans.”

Meg stared at him as he began to wrap her feet roughly with gauze. His eyes went up from her toes to her face, a slow drag that burned as it went.

“But you aren’t human. Not quite. Are you? So how do I owe you that patience?” he continued with one last fast tug on the gauze. “You can’t bring yourself to trust me like you once did.”

“Any reason why I should?” Meg demanded as she retracted her feet and pulled them close away from him. “You have done something worse to me than Alastair and any other demon alive!”

“And I didn’t mean to!” Castiel shouted back and rose from the couch over her. Meg had never heard his voice really raised before but the sound was awe-inspiring if not painful. The entire room seemed to swell around him and she almost saw wings flicking out from his back as shadows grew over him, darkening his vessel, and the building quaked from the force of his Grace simmering. There was an odd darkness in him though his eyes were bright blue and furious. His gaze burned into her and she looked away, shaking.

She’d forgotten what it was to be afraid.

In her attempt to hide her fear, she missed the softening in his features as he watched her gather her armour back around herself like a protective shell. Castiel had seen Dean do something similar before; it reminded him of soldiers before battle when they knew they were going to die.

He sat back down heavily at her feet, exhausted to his core for the first time in weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at him sidelong and he cleared his throat.

“I am trying to understand but you are making it difficult for me.” He wiggled his fingers and the gauze on her feet was no longer constricting but comforting. “I want to help you, Meg.”

He almost nervously looked up at her. “I will make it right. Somehow. I can help it get better.”

Meg shook her head and glanced at the shelves to avoid his eyes.

“Please. If I can find a way…” Exhaling slowly, he shook his head. “Just say something.”

Flicking a piece of dirty blond hair out of her eyes, she gave him a dismissive look. “Why? Why help me?”

He stared at her hands next, watching the way she twisted them in the hem of the ratty sweater. “I am still not sure.”

There was something in that indecisive look that wrenched her fear into anger. No revelations, no making things right with a few choice words, no simplification. It’d been stupid, Meg realized, to expect otherwise.

“What reason did you want me to give?” Castiel asked.

Any answer she gave would make her seem weak and ridiculous. So she did the only thing she could think to do when faced with odds that were too overwhelming and she wasn’t ready to face them.

She ran.

Castiel simply sat and watched her launch herself off the couch. He didn’t go to catch her when she tripped and slammed her knee into the tile floor, didn’t do more than stare as she ran to the bathroom to hide. When she turned, holding the door in one hand, he was still sitting there, staring at her with that hopeless indulgent look of a friend waiting for her to come back to earth.

Feeling like a fool, Meg slammed the door on that beseeching puppy dog face and felt ridiculously good doing it. The frame cracked under the force of it and she backed away, half expecting either Castiel or a Winchester to barge through demanding to know what was wrong with her.

An answer a demon as old as her didn’t even have.

Pacing the tiny distance between tub and sink, she raked her hands through her tangled hair and pulled hard. When she turned and saw her reflection in the mirror, saw the shade of what she’d been in human and in demon form, her fury went white-hot.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck… FUCK!” she screamed at the mirror and it shattered when she directed her power at it.

**_Such emotion. I didn’t think it was left in you. You recovered fast._ **

That stupid voice. Distracting her.

Yet dreams of Lethe were all but gone, leaving the reality of this bitter numbness behind. When she went to lash out with her power again, the room swam around her and she bent her head over the sink to spit up a mouthful of bile. Blood soon joined it and she heaved hard for breath as panic and anger meshed into a furious turmoil inside of her.

It took her minutes to get her stomach back under control and she turned on the taps, swishing water into her mouth to get rid of the bitter aftertaste until there was nothing but smoke remaining. Meg coughed and forced herself to drink, remembering the cool waters of Lethe washing through her insides, purifying her slowly.

Only now, instead of that warm numbness she felt only an incredible weakness.

A weakness that had been infecting her since she first met a damn angel.

**He can’t hurt you here. You’re safe with me.**

A flood of warmth went through her, as if hot water was being flowed around her body, and Meg had to blink to clear the blurring in her vision. Dizzy, she looked up at her reflection. The glass rippled once, twice, and then went black in the background until only her pale face remained. Her meatsuit smoothed and demon and woman meshed perfectly into refined beauty. Her reflection had more sophistication than Meg ever remembered and she tilted her head, confused by the change.

Her reflection smiled.  _“Hello little dove, there’s something I need you to do.”_

Meg blinked. “Right. I’m nuts. That’s it. Take me home to hospital. Cas did a number on me.”

 _“Yes,”_  her reflection agreed.  _“He did. I don’t think you realize how deep a ‘number’. I had to let him so we both could come back but he is an unusual fount of surprises. You are… difficult.”_

Meg hadn’t been a demon for centuries without knowing when something was inherently different in her stolen meatsuit. Her true face didn’t show through in the mirror. The reflection was poised and controlled. No signs of anything except peace. But there was something wrong in this reflection; she knew it with every piece of power and knowledge she had.

It screamed ‘wrong’.

“What are you? You’re not me,” Meg whispered.

 _“I’m not you, but I am part of you because you became a part of me. Understand?”_ the woman asked.

“No.”

 _“I thought not. Demons are young and would not quite understand the enormity of such a situation.”_ The reflection rippled again. _“I let him take you from my river. Your soul, splintered as it was, re-emerged, and surfaced already torn apart. But there’s always a cost. You know that.”_

Meg had a headache already from such overly precise words.

“So that makes you, what exactly?”

The smile she was given was both kind and stern all at once in the curve of it.  _“I used to be called Sheol, in another time when I still roamed. But for all you need to know, I’m the sweet Oblivion you once knew.”_

“You’re the voice in my head.” Meg stepped back from the mirror. “You’re the one I hear.”

 _I thought it was an echo of Cas_ , she thought dumbly.

The woman in the mirror, reflected back at her, smiled indulgently.  _“You do have an unusual amount of emotion for a demon.”_

“It gets me in trouble, yeah,” Meg muttered, looking nervously over her shoulder. She half expected Castiel to pop up out of nowhere. He alway _s_ did that when he was ‘concerned’ and the way she’d left should have brought him in _._

_“He can never care for you, you know, and you should never care him. It is out of your base natures. It is unnatural, immoral… et cetera et cetera, whatever some righteous human with aspirations of morality would say.”_

Meg stiffened and the reflection watched her with an arched brow. “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine in my sub-conscious? I don’t want to love him, if that’s what you mean.”

Her reflection arched an eyebrow that let her know her choice of words was caught and she flinched.

 _“But still. He did find you and I didn’t make it easy. Tragic. My brother did tell me to expect something like that. The angel was rather different. He took you from me.”_  She pressed a well-manicured hand to the mirror and hesitantly Meg reached out and pressed her hand to the other side. It felt like electricity flowed between the glass and her reflection. 

“What exactly am I supposed to do for you?”

_“Allow the trial to go through. Help your precious angel and his human pets close the gates of Hell. Simple, isn’t it?”_

Meg rolled her eyes. “I’m old but I’m not stupid. There’s something else.”

 _“But you are loyal and you are obedient.”_  Her reflection felt warm under the glass. _“You’ll come to realize that my cause is a way to end all the pain, all the suffering. Devote yourself to me, Meg.”_

She’d never been truly asked for her loyalty before and the seduction drove deep into her.

With it was a feeling of love and protection, deceptive and warm, which made Meg lean towards the glass.

 _“But without me,”_ the entity leaned forward and her mouth almost pressed against the splintered glass,  _“you will always feel too much pain and not know contentment. Nor protection. I’m part of you, demon, and you’re part of me. I can protect you.”_

Meg pulled back and yanked her hand away.

Her reflection watched her back off and smiled.  _“Soon enough.”_

With that there was a shimmer of light and Meg fell back against the opposing wall as she was bathed in power. It burned and seethed and then settled just under the surface of her. The woman was gone, leaving only a tired looking demon wearing a stolen face behind. 

Meg shuddered and felt her fingers tingle where she’d touched the mirror. Convinced it was a hallucination, she reached out to the tub and grabbed Dean’s discarded razor. The sharp blade slid over the flesh of her palm, sliced a neatly line, and the pain brought her back to reality. But despite the depth of the cut, her flesh healed over quickly.

She could feel something. She wasn’t insane.

* * *

 

When she eventually came out of the bathroom to the empty library, Meg paced. Castiel had apparently left so she was free to walk herself to death if she wanted. Allowed out of the demon cell helped but only a little. The Winchesters watched her but Dean simply shook his head and told her to hook herself up to a battery if she had that much energy.

Another time she would have flipped him off but she was too lost in trying to erase the edginess that the reflection had given her to bother. It was already late and Sam, exhausted and ill, dragged himself away from his piles of books. Dean wasn’t far behind, warning her that if she did a thing he’d have Castiel smite her ass.

Meg still ignored him.

Up and down one side of the room to the next. Confined by wards and blocked by whatever stupid crap the Men of Letters had created to snare her kind in. Restless and angry at being trapped, not just by this room but also by what was being done to her, Meg struggled to hold on to her temper. The wards burned whenever she touched the edges of the room but still she went right to the edges because at least she felt something. 

The only thing she was going to feel was going to be pain anyway.

Even exhaustion seemed beyond her now. Meg raked her nails down her arms and felt the scratches burn but once again, like the cut on her palms, they healed over instantly. That surge of power was gone but she could feel its residue on her skin.

She could stay curled up in a pathetic ball.

That wasn’t like her either. None of this was her.

Somehow that was worse, the idea that she’d lost herself.

For once, she felt a little tiny bit of pity for the girls she’d taken.

Watching her from the doorway, Castiel waited until she turned a fourth time before he cleared his throat.

Meg just ignored him and paced.

He had to wait until she came to his side near the kitchenette and he blocked her. “You’re walking again. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. Take your pick but leave me alone.” 

“I don’t think that is what I should do. I left you alone for a few hours and you seem worse. ”

For the first time, she reached for him and her slim fingers grabbed his tie. He grunted as she hauled him down to her level.

“What you should have done you never did do. I’m fucked over.”

Castiel stared back at her and hesitantly raised his hand. He smoothed down her hair, untangling a knot, and Meg felt warmth go through her at the touch.

“I have only wanted to watch over you. To do what you needed. I owe you that.”

Castiel saw the change in her. For a moment, his Meg, the one who had fought him and yet cared for him, was back. Her eyes glinted with a dangerous sliver of light and he felt her loosen her hold on his tie again.

“What I needed,” she repeated as he straightened up to look down his nose at her.

He knew the instant she spoke that something was different. There was a drawl in her voice, a slow slide in her step, and he knew she was up to something more than just arguing with him. Meg tilted her head back and stepped into him, so close he felt the too intimate push of her hips against his.

“What you think I need? Or what I ask for?” Meg demanded.

He heard a slight tinge in her voice, wild and uncertain.

“What happened?” He watched her flinch a little. “I would… I want to help you forget what is bothering you.”

“For a price, right?” she spat out bitterly. “Giving my life again to end Crowley? Helping your precious Dean or hapless Sam?”

“No.” Castiel saw her eyes dart over him. “There’s never been a price since you saved me the first time.”

“That’s how it is. You are doing this out of pity IOUs.”

“Don’t twist it.” Her head tilted and he felt her hand slid down his shoulder to the lapel of his coat. “I want to help you because I do. But I can’t because you won’t let me.”

“And if I do?”

He stared down at her, not sure what to do as he felt her small hands pull on his coat, but for a moment the seduction he’d once seen in her was back. Darkness glittered in her eyes but not out of evil. He hissed in a breath as both of her hands slid under his coat and lifted it back a bit.

Sheer want radiated off her.

“You asked what I needed,” Meg muttered as she slowly peeled the coat off him and let it fall to the floor. Nervously, he stared at the top of her head as she leaned into him. Her head turned so her nose brushed his neck and her breath wafted hot over his skin. “And right now, I need to feel something. So what I need is you to help me actually remember what it is. Step up, Castiel, or shut up and leave.”

The abrupt change, her voice rough and her eyes too dark, should have warned him.

But more than she realized, he knew what it was to hurt about what had been done and to want something forbidden. He’d restrained himself before to damn the consequences when he found that in her.

Closing his eyes, Castiel shuddered when she nuzzled his neck and brought with her warmth that he’d not felt on her in sometime. Hands grabbing hold her shoulders, for one moment he almost thought to push her off but he held her still, feeling that warmth in her. It was all of her suddenly; back to the emotional, passionately loyal creature she’d once been, and he’d missed that part of her. 

Meg’s lips tracked over his jaw, biting gently and soothing the hurt with her tongue. Castiel leaned into the touch before he turned his head and kissed her. They both paused, not sure whether to continue, but then her lips parted under his. It was hesitant and overly precise how he slid his tongue against hers, tried to place his hands this way or that in an awkward embrace, and then murmured nonsense when she leaned flush against him. Her hands bunched in his hair and pulled him in closer to try to absorb more sensation, more warmth, and his fingers tightened on her hips to keep her still. When he broke the kiss to breathe, he saw her breathing just as hard as he was. Meg responded to his look by pulling the sweater over her head and dropping it on top of his coat. Her skin glimmered a little from a growing sweat, and she pushed back into him, putting his hands on her waist again.

His mind stayed focussed and clear even when her nails dug into his hands, and he realized she was looking for something from him.

He succumbed to the same need with an eagerness that would have been sinful in an angel when he deepened the kiss and felt her nip at his lower lip. Leaning into her mouth, he bent and grabbed her by her legs to lift her closer, feeling her wrap her legs around his waist. Her nails raked through his hair, pinching and pulling, while she returned the kiss almost angrily. Barely sure where he was going, Castiel held her tight and tried to focus on where he wanted to take her.

They only made it as far as the archive shelves before her kiss grew too distracting and he had to press her against them to stop from dropping her to the floor then and there.

Meg broke the kiss and licked her lower lip thoughtfully as she leaned back against the shelf he had her propped against. 

For a moment, he saw a flicker in her face. “We should stop,” he said for her. A mixture of dismay and worry went through him, none so strong as that desire. “You’re still very weak.”

Her skin still felt cold and he swallowed at the look she gave him when she grabbed him by the back of his head. Her breath was hot on his mouth as she tilted her head and leaned forward to grab his lower lip between her teeth, biting down so sharply he knew she tasted his blood. At his wide-eyed look, she smirked.

“Shut. Up. For once.”

* * *

 

Sam yawned and wiped at his face as he stumbled into the kitchenette, barely seeing straight through the low flickering lights. He’d drank more than three quarters of his bottle of jack to get to sleep, a Dean move for sure, and now the headache he was getting was making him regret it. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton and his head ached, so he stumbled into the tiny table to get his balance.

When he tripped over clothing, he kicked it out of the way, opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

He had swallowed half of it by the time he turned around and saw that the clothing he’d kicked was a tan overcoat. Eyes going wide, he realized that one of his large sweaters was there as well.

“What the-?” he whispered, nudging the clothes with his toe as if they were going to bite him. Confused, he looked up, saw the lights still doing the occasional flicker, and he promptly swallowed down the rest of the bottle. 

Nervously, he crept forward, listening. 

He saw a shift of movement behind one of the stacks and nervously he checked over his shoulder before looking closer. When he came just a few steps, peering between the open slats, the movement was clearly belonging to a man moving on top of something.

Or someone. Judging by the hands sliding up his bare back and over the flexing shoulders, the man wasn’t alone in the shelves.

Sam gulped and backed off when he realized just what he’d seen.

And whom.

The shuffle of movement behind him made him whirl around to see an equally sleepy Dean coming into the kitchen. As if sleepwalking, he opened the fridge, fished out the slice of pie he’d been saving, and without bothering with a fork promptly began to scarf it down at the sink. Sam walked fast to meet him and leaned against the counter.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked. “You look like you’re in shock.”

Sam managed, just, to pull all expression from his face. “I’m okay, yeah.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Dean what he thought was going on.

But for some reason, he stopped himself and as Dean looked up at the lights, he discreetly pushed Castiel’s coat out of sight under the table.

“Something with the electrical? Thought we had a good generator.”

“Uh yeah. You know, um, stuff is fizzy. I’m going to just…. go back to bed, get some sleep, fix it in the morning. You look like you need sleep too,” Sam said.

Dean squinted at him. “You hiding something?”

“Me?” He laughed and watched Dean just as carefully. “Of course not.”

Dean ran his eyes over him, looking for any signs of him being ill, and when he came to Sam’s feet. “Isn’t that yours? The one you loaned Meg?” he asked and he bent to grab the sweater from the floor.

“Oh, yeah. She’s been a bit nuts… likely just tossed it.”

“Meg wandering around topless, there’s a picture.” Dean made a face, and then paused. “Not a bad one actually. Would be a highlight.”

He tossed the sweater on the table. “All right, come on. Get back to bed before I kick your ass.”

Sam exhaled in relief as he followed his brother out of the room. “You owe me, Cas,” he muttered.

* * *

 

Meg dozed, her back pressed against Castiel’s, as they lay between the archive shelves. He was warm against her cool skin, almost vibrating with power and heat and his skin was sweat-slick, sliding along hers whenever he shifted. Books and the angel’s clothing were scattered around them and without any conscious thought she plucked at a few ripped pages. He’d been silent for a while now and she could feel him thinking.

He didn’t realize, like the Winchesters, how loud sometimes he thought.

Irrationally, Meg wondered if the experience had come up lacking to him. When it hadn’t to her at all. Her expectations…

She’d wanted a fast, fun time and instead he showed her comfort and patience.

Almost as if he’d been making love to her instead of just sex.

His shoulders shifted and she felt the brush of muscle and a phantom touch of feathers that burned her skin.

The closeness was too much too soon.

With a groan, Meg pulled her legs up close and rolled over. She had to grip the shelves to stop her legs from giving out on her, exhaustion and ache making it hard to stand. When she finally stood up and started to slowly make her way to the hall, she was aware of Castiel staring after her.

Meg managed to make it through the long walk to her cell, to the cot, before she collapsed.

Vaguely, she was aware of a hand going through her hair and pulling a blanket over her naked skin. Smoothing away the ache and warming her too-cold skin. Then it was gone and she ached worse than before.

The demon didn’t need this.

Where was the easy solve to wanting to feel more? Why hadn’t it worked?

Why had she wanted that comfort to last when before she’d just have taken it as a mindless screw?

* * *

 

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Castiel demanded. Dean opened his mouth to answer but the angel was gone from sight. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Dean waited patiently and just as quickly the angel was back, pacing the common room the minute he winged in. “She’s gone, Dean!”

“She disappeared when Sam was down for a snooze. He needs his rest. We couldn’t watch her twenty-four hours a day, Cas. Where the hell were you? She was yours to watch, remember?”

Castiel looked away. “I needed to be away from here for a while. I had some things to think over but I came back expecting to her to be here.”

Sam coughed loudly and the angel gave him a sharp look.

“Well, she’s gone. Went down to be sure she hadn’t gone completely insane. Poof. Gone.” Dean shrugged. “Not even sure how she would have gotten through the wards.”

Straightening his overcoat, Castiel grabbed his satchel from the floor. “I have to go.”

“Cas, maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Sam said suddenly. He watched the angel stiffen up but continued anyway, “Maybe she doesn’t… want to be saved. Whatever she felt, wherever she was; it’s changed her and who knows if it is for the better? She’s a demon.”

Castiel shook his head. “She’s also my charge. I was supposed to take care of her.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other. “Look, Cas, not everything…” Dean turned and the angel was gone. “Damn.”

* * *

 

A blonde woman sat in the truck stop diner, head bent over her arm. Setting down a plate full of greasy food in front of her, the waitress who’d been watching for an hour refilled her cup of coffee for the fifth time.

“You okay, sugar?”

She didn’t get an answer but then again, she didn’t wait around for one. The waitress missed seeing what the blonde was doing because already larger tables with bigger chances at tips was coming her way.

Meg hummed in her throat as she dug the tiny switchblade into her other hand, past nerve and muscle, until she nicked bone. The pain was nothing compared to what she’d felt before. The carving burned as she etched tiny sigils into her finger-bones, ones she’d learned from Castiel. The napkins were soaked in blood now but she kept going until a series of sigils and wards were now more a part of her stolen body than she was.

It joined the other ones she’d actually painted on herself using human blood she’d bled from a trucker who’d attacked her on the highway.

 _“Are you going to do what I want you to do, my dove?”_  that silky voice asked in her ear and when she looked at the window she saw her reflection staring at her. Dignified, beautiful… as unlike her true self as Castiel was.

“No. Go away.”

The woman smiled. _“I’m going nowhere, Meg. Not until you remember all that it was in Lethe and how it made you feel. And you will choose me, in the end. It is the only thing you have left. It is why you left your caretaker and his pets behind.”_

“Then you are going to be waiting a long time,” she snapped.

_“I have eternity. It will be a lonely existence for you, in the end.”_


	5. Blinding (When Demons Escape)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg’s escape from Castiel & the Winchesters is plagued by empty feelings of Lethe. Concerned, Castiel pushes himself to exhaustion while struggling to find his charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the original chapters top out at over 10k per chapter, so to make for easier reading I am dividing them into parts 1 and 2

> _[AU MEME Prompt:](http://demonofdiscord.tumblr.com/post/47671257342/youre-in-my-head-youre-just-in-my-head-you)  
> _

**Blinding (AU When Demons Escape)**

**Part 1**  
  
    Demons could take an abysmal amount of punishment before they ever came close to death. They could be bleeding out, their meatsuits struggling to repair as fast as the damage came, with their brains blown half way out their skulls before they even felt faint with pain. The good ones that was. The ones from Azazel’s time who’d been old and perfectly crafted could take a beating.  
    These younger ones? They were far too easy.  
  Standing across from the female demon lashed to the chair, Meg  toed outside the broken line of the devil’s trap and stared at her. She only recognized this one from a few times before. The true face was the same though the body was different. A loyalist to Crowley and a traitor to Azazel.  
    Meg waited for a good old fashioned rage threatening to overtake her hard-won common sense. But as always, there was nothing.  
    “So what is Crowley up to?” Meg asked as she pulled up a stool before the other female and sat down on it. She liked that jacket the demon was wearing… maybe she’d get it off her first before she started.  
    “You…” The demon swayed unsteadily, spitting up blood and teeth. “You whore. You were supposed to be dead.”  
    “If wishes were horses I’d be riding unicorns, precious. Answer me.”  
    The demon laughed. “Kill me. I’d rather risk being nothing than torture by Crowley.”  
    That was the problem with the young ones, Meg figured. They had never known too long in the Pit. Never known its despairs and agonies for long enough. Crowley wouldn’t risk any of them becoming stronger than he was and the Pit made demons incredibly strong because it stripped them of fears. She rolled her eyes up and drew out a silver knife. Some wards scratched into its hilt but it looked almost normal.  
    “You see this? It won’t kill you. But it can do some fierce damage.”  
    The demon watched the way the blade shone as Meg spun it in her hand.  
    “So you are going to tell me what you know of the bastard and his little latest hideout. Sooner or later.” Resting the blade just on the demon’s breast, Meg pressed. “You never got to meet Alastair, did you?”  
    She shook her head and Meg smirked.  
    “That’s a shame. You would have had some prep time to know what I’m about to do to you.”

* * *

  
    Before Lethe, torture had given her a bit of pleasure. There was something utterly refined about slicing into souls in order to keep away your own pain. It had been an act of survival in itself. She remembered standing alongside Dean Winchester as he carved into an innocent girl who had been on the wrong side of a deal, watching him the way Alastair had instructed her. If either of them had come up lacking, they’d be on the rack next. So you learned to do a better job at someone else’s torture to keep away from more scars on your soul.  
    Not that Dean would remember his audiences back then anyway.  
    But now? Nothing. That hollow ache that she’d been living with for the past few weeks had deepened to a throb inside of her, pulsing. The ache had changed a little though, giving her some warmth but still not enough to fix what she knew was wrong. Torture did nothing for her and learning what Crowley knew brought her no pleasure.  
    She just… did it.  
    It gave her purpose.  
    She left the broken demon inside the trap still muttering in Latin and dialled Sam Winchester on her way out. The instant he picked up, she used what power she had to warp her voice into a male baritone, told him the location, and then tossed the phone just outside the closed devil’s trap so he could hear the demon’s whimpers. It would be self-healed by the time they got there but still trapped.  
    The abandoned train yard had been the perfect location to torture sight unseen and Meg straightened the collar of her new leather jacket as she made her way out. The thick sweater underneath kept off the cold chill and her heels made loud clacks when she walked, passing homeless people who didn’t give her more than a quick glance. With her blonde head bent, she looked like she was wandering around, searching for something like a runaway searches for a home. The low bridges and old buildings gave her cover enough and she ducked into one of the abandoned shelters.  
    _ **“You can’t run forever, Meg,”**_ a voice muttered in her head and Meg turned to face the shadows, hand going to the knife strapped to her side.  
    Slipping from the shadows, the elegant redhead dressed in white smiled at her with her sweet gaze unbearably kind. Her form was translucent, barely more than a shade in the moonlight, and she took a few steps before her. The broken windows around reflected her in multitudes and the demon suddenly felt as if she was closed in by those reflections.  
    Not knowing why her breath stuttered in her chest at the sight of her, Meg turned away from the shade and put her head in her hands, shaking it. “You aren’t real.” Her fingers dug into her hair and pulled hard. She hadn’t seen this illusion in days. She’d thought she’d gotten over it by working herself half-to-exorcism in capturing and leaving behind demons on her route to destroy Crowley. On her escape from Castiel. “You’re in my head. You’re just in my head. You aren’t real!”  
    Oblivion only smiled and stepped forward.  
 _“I am real, Meg. I am what your angel brought back when he tore you out….”_ Oblivion stopped herself and stared at Meg hard.  
    “I haven’t needed any memories. You are just some stupid part of me that got cleaned up but it’s not real. I’m about three minutes away from full-blown insanity.”  
    The demon was ready to spin away but standing in front of her was Oblivion. With just a look, the entity snared her like a snake would its prey and Meg froze in her place. A gentle hand drifted down her body, bringing surges of heat and numbness all at once to her nerves. Her eyes shuddered closed and she leaned into the familiar touch. It brought with it a sensation of comfort and protection, of sameness and being held, and she nearly moaned.  
    Oblivion caressed her cheek gently and then ran her hand down her neck.  
    _“… There’s something different about you. You haven’t been feeling me as I have been feeling you.”_ Oblivion curved her palm down Meg’s jacket and pushed lightly on the swell of her breast. _“What have you done? You ran from the Winchesters, from your angel. You should have stayed, then we could have finished this the way I want it to be done. I know something happened.”_  
    Meg opened her eyes slowly and Oblivion’s gaze locked on hers.  
    Something hardened in her eyes. Something that made Meg’s heart clench in terror. _“Oh he didn’t. You didn’t. Why would you make such a move, my dove?”_ Her head tilted to the side, eyes suddenly black. “He wouldn’t.”  
     Her low murmur made the entire area rumble and Oblivion was gone, taking with her all feeling of warmth. Somehow it was almost more devastating than it should have been and Meg had to lean against the wall to strengthen herself against that deep loss.

* * *

  
    “Where are you?” The voice shrieked in his head and Chuck jerked upright, groaning when he banged his forehead on the headboard.  
    “Huh wha?”  
    _“You’ve done something! When you wrote, you affected something of mine. Why?”_  
    The voice echoed in his head and he rolled from the bed. Rather than argue with his hallucinations, he’d come to accept them, so he stood up and stretched. “I needed a new story-line. One that would be… epic… different.”  
    _“You are violating our contracts.”_ A flicker of movement in his bedroom and the woman who’d held him in her arms as he wrote suddenly stood before him, as translucent and unclear as before.  
    “Not violating.” His voice changed a little and his eyes cleared as he looked at his laptop. “Updating.”  
 _“This will not help you, in the end. Everything comes to me.”_  
    “I can keep this story going.” Chuck opened his laptop up and sat down. “I’ve been avoiding cleaning this mess for too long. This story needs new direction.”  
    Soft white arms went around his shoulders and he leaned back into the hold again out of reflex.  
 _“Why do you always fight to bring cause to such sorrow?”_ she whispered in his ear and Chuck stared at the type-filled page. _“Is this, all of this, really worth it?”_  
     That old nervousness that what he’d written was garbage was back and he clicked on the file, ready to delete it. But something stopped him as he read the words of Dean and Sam, the last paragraph of Castiel and Meg, and he moved the cursor back over so he could start a new paragraph. Eyes darting over the type, he swallowed down the fear he always felt when he started.  He forgot the woman at his back as he lost himself in a story for the first time in a long time.

* * *

  
    “This is weird, man. I mean, this is the fourth demon in less than a week in a hundred mile radius of us.” Dean stared at the barely coherent thing in front of them. What might be left of the demon inside wasn’t too clear and he kept himself from pointing out that he knew those signs of torture intimately.  
    “Someone is sending us a message? Or just wanting us to get rid of their mess?” Sam offered. “I’m calling Cas on this one. This is just getting weird.”  
    “The whore…” the demon in front of them muttered and Dean blinked.  
    “Say again?”  
    “That traitorous bitch.”  
    Dean looked up at Sam who was waiting patiently for Castiel to pick up. His brother rolled his eyes at something Castiel said in greeting. “Cas, we need your help. We’re about five miles outside Lebannon, near the bunker and… yeah I know you’re very busy but we need your help.”  
    Dean decided to cut to the chase and loudly declared, “I only know a few female demons that get called that. I think she means Meg.”  
    In a resounding flutter Castiel appeared behind the demon. “What of her?”  
    “Jesus, Cas, that was fast. I just…”  
    “I heard Dean when I picked up.” Castiel came around in front of the demon and stared down at her. Dean gave Sam a smug look but the angel was already focussed on the demon. “You saw Meg?”  
    Disgustingly, she spat blood and ripped flesh onto his shoes.  
    “Cas, she’s just…”  
    “I saw her,” the demon hissed and her head lifted, black eyes showing through the bloody sockets. “And when I finish telling Crowley where she is, he’ll know too and he can carve that bitch into a new pair of shoes…”  
    Castiel turned away from her. “Exorcise it,” he snapped at Sam. Startled by the force in his voice, Sam began to mutter the exorcism over and over again, his voice gaining power as they all watched the woman twitch and scream. Dean held Ruby’s Knife ready but Castiel simply waited.  
    “Back to the pit you go, bitch,” Dean muttered to himself as the smoky soul poured out of the demon and evaporated once it struck the trap.  
    The meatsuit left over was whimpering in agony, blood pouring out of her nose and mouth, and Castiel sighed, reaching out with his hand. He cupped her cheek, testing to be sure that the demon was truly gone, before he smoothed her hair out of her eyes. With a flex of power, he healed the woman and sent her to sleep. Better that than have her realize what had happened to her.  
    He’d forgotten how brutal Meg could be in her causes.  
    But she’d left the demon here as a message and he tried not to read too much into that.  
    “We’ll have to see her home… or at least somewhere safe.” Castiel straightened up and looked around at the blood-stained floor. “That thing will be thrown down to the bottom of the Pit so Meg should be safe for some time.”  
    Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure, Cas. Where have you been anyway?”  
    The angel was already circling the trap. “She’s around here. I know it.”  
    “Cas,” Dean stepped forward, “you need some rest. Maybe Meg doesn’t need us and maybe, for all we know, she’s about two steps from offing herself to get back to…”  
    He was gone before the elder Winchester could continue. “I hate when he leaves in the middle of a sentence.”  
    “Probably why he does it,” Sam said tiredly. “Come on, report the Jane Doe to the hospital. Just hope she has some family.”

* * *

  
    Dozing in her stolen car outside the city limits, Meg listened to the pounding rain on the roof and hood. She couldn’t get far in this recent deluge so she’d pulled over to wait. It had been nearly a month since her escape from the Winchesters, from Castiel, and it had reminded her of being on the run from Crowley. She’d stayed close to Lebannon though; there was some protection being so close to Hunter Central and she knew that none of them would expect her to stay so close. Castiel would likely go to all of her old haunts all over the world and she figured he might give up eventually.  
    Except Castiel was far more relentless when it came to her. There had been dozens of near misses, when she’d felt angelic presence just before she managed to hide, and she was exhausted from her constant hunting and hiding. What made it worse was that there’d been times she’d almost slipped up deliberately.  
    But sooner or later she was going to find a demon who knew exactly what was going on and she could get her own plan moving.  
    Drumming her fingers on the wheel, Meg stared at her other hand where it rested on her knee. It ached badly, hadn’t stopped hurting for the past weeks, and she could see the imprint of scar tissue where she’d dug the knife in. Nearly able to feel the sigils etched into her finger bones, she flexed her fingers and winced at the pain of the movement. Her hand refused to heal and there were times when it nearly glowed. But so long as it kept her somewhat hidden, it was worth the pain.

* * *

  
    Chuck tapped the stack of papers together and stared at the first line of type. He hadn’t written Meg in so long that he’d almost forgot what it was like to find a place for her in his story. Not quite a villain, not quite a hero, not even an anti-hero.  
    But that woman had wanted her written in and he had found a place he liked for Meg because of her.  
    He had decided she could be called a muse, this strange woman who frightened and intrigued him. Vicious, beautiful… wonderful in sheer complexity. Much like his ideal of Meg. Chuck grinned and leaned back in his seat to read.  
 _“Demons don’t often dream but, thanks to the grace she’d been touched with, Meg became an exception…”_  
   

* * *

  
    The demon jerked her head up, not sure why the voice had woken her up but feeling as if her body had been shaken like a rag doll. Looking out the window, she squinted through the rain and half-expected to see a man in an overcoat nearby. But there was nothing.  
    Every instinct warning her, she glanced at the rear-view next and was met by too familiar eyes from the back-seat.  
    Oblivion tilted her head. _**“Hello, Meg.”**_  
    The demon tore the rear-view mirror off the window and threw it to the floorboards, her hands shaking. That numb sensation went with the mirror, leaving her alone and staring out the window, hoping to be left alone. The rainstorm wasn’t letting up but there was no way she was going to be kept company by her own insanity.  
    Digging through her satchel, she fished out a stolen iPod and headphones, thrust them on, and slid down in her front seat until she was stretched out from door to door. As she rested her hands on her stomach, she felt relaxation slowly started to drift through her body. Ignoring that faint murmur she could hear over and over again, she closed her eyes and forced herself to doze again to wait out the storm.

* * *

  
_The beach had the same warm sand and cool breeze she remembered. Lethe’s waters lapped at the shoreline in rhythm and Meg reclined back, digging her fingers in and burying her toes in the sand. Hot, wonderful sand that made her feel warm. She knew she was dreaming, could feel it because everything about this was wrong. There was even that niggling feeling of being watched. From the too soft of sand to the way she felt out of place again, halfway clean and without a place._  
 _Still. Better a dream than waking up in that cold car again._  
 _Better than more numbness overlaying the agony of her own existence._  
 _Stretching out, she closed her eyes and tried to relax._  
 _But even here, that hole was gaping as bad as the wound Crowley had put in her. Without the reality of Lethe washing away memories of torture and suffering, of good and evil, she had nothing. No purpose, no cause. There was no utter point._  
 _She had no real cause and no way of fighting what Oblivion was asking her to do. Not when it made too much sense._  
 _World without more hellfire and torture, without struggling to survive. Bliss._  
 _The sensation of being watched grew and grew. Grew until she couldn’t ignore that the hot sun that had been beating down on her was shadowed out on her closed eyelids. She knew that look. It was intimate and angry and caring all at once. There was only a few people who could invade her mind so easily anyway so it was an easy guess._  
 _“What are you doing here, Castiel?” Meg muttered._  
 _“I have been looking for you.” The raspy voice was agitated, furious even, and she squinted an eye open at him. He looked rougher than usual, hair at all angles, tie and collar undone. “Where have you been hiding? How have you been hiding?”_  
 _“That’s my business. And this is my dream. Get lost.”_  
 _Of course he won’t, that’d be too easy, she thought in irritation as he sat next to her on the sand. Even with all this open area he took up far too much of her personal space. Resolutely, she closed her eye and tried to enjoy her dream. But she could feel him fidgeting next to her; clearly staying still for too long bothered him as much as it did her._  
 _“I said I would take care of you, as I promised, and I had every intention of holding true to that promise.”_  
 _“Yeah, well. You owed me a favour once and still got me killed.” She lifted a hand and idly ran her nails over her stomach. “So maybe you doing favours is something you should rethink, feathers.”_  
 _Before she could move, a hand wrapped around her upper arm and he was leaning over her. Her eyes flew open and saw one extremely annoyed angel staring at her. For the first time she noticed that he looked exhausted; whatever was bothering him was outwardly manifesting. His fingers flexed on her skin and she felt the imprint he left even on unreal skin. Then he had hold of her hand and he blinked._  
 _“This feels different, even here. You’ve done something to yourself.” He turned her hand over, traced her palm and shook his head. “What did you do?”_  
 _“Couldn’t hang around cloudhoppers for that long without learning some tricks,” she muttered, trying to jerk her hand free._  
 _“I have searched everywhere for you. I was concerned for you, especially after Lethe, after we were…” he broke off from that train of thought and shook his head. “I had perhaps hoped for some appreciation for my concern.”_  
 _“I’m a demon, remember?”_  
 _“Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t something else, Meg.” Castiel let her go and straightened up._  
 _“So you resorted to hijacking what was going to be a pleasant dream for me? You can go if you want.”_  
 _“I want you to tell me where you are. You’re not well. I can tell even now.”_  
 _She peeked an eye open. “Is that your sweet way of saying I look like crap?”_  
 _The angel actually huffed. “Not precisely. I am concerned.”_  
 _“I’m fine. Happy and carefree, born to be wild, all that stupid nonsense. Real world me is enjoying the break. You can go.”_  
 _“I’m not leaving you here.” He actually shook his shoulders like a bird fluffing its feathers and finally irritated enough Meg pushed herself up and glared at him. When he looked at her, she grabbed him by his creased collar and hauled him close. His eyes widened a little in surprise and she focussed on staring him down._  
 _“I don’t want you around. Are we clear? You can babysit your pet humans all you want, your precious boytoy Dean and his tool of a brother Sam, but I do better on my own. I am far happier that way and even here, in a memory, I am happier than I ever was trying to join up with your little Team.”_  
 _Castiel didn’t flinch at the cruelty in the words, just looked back at her and tilted his head. “Are you? Happier here I mean? In this memory you’re holding onto?”_  
 _As if his clothing suddenly burned to hold, she let him go and sat back. Castiel watched her with an impassive expression now hiding everything._  
 _“Meg, I… would like to know where you are. I can help you. Please.”_  
 _Meg had to stare at him, focus on him, because suddenly he was blurring out before her eyes. As if sensing that he was changing, Castiel reached out and his fingers brushed the sand at her feet. Then, with a flash, he was gone and she was left alone in her memory again._  
 _Somehow, the sting of his words made it no longer enjoyable to stay here._

* * *

  
    Castiel gasped as he came to with every fibre in his body aching and his lungs burning. He didn’t often feel such pain but now he did, the result shocking him fully aware. Dream-walking with Dean had never hurt this much. It was as if someone had been angry with his invasion of Meg’s dreams and yanked him out.  
    “You okay?” Sam asked from where he’d been watching from the table. Castiel had appeared out of nowhere ten minutes ago, looking lost but something in the way he had moved around had made Sam realize that where he was wasn’t exactly in this reality. He’d left him as he was. Easier that way and more entertaining to watch. “You were in a little trance there for a while.”  
    “Yes, I’m fine.” Castiel blinked and turned back around. “You were saying?”  
    “Well uh.” Sam was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything. He flipped around the laptop. “Some real strange things happening in the Midwest.”  
    “For example?”  
    “Well, an entire town going missing. I usually like to keep up to date on places we visit, you know? Goggled to see if that vamp nest in Mitchell had any activity.”  
    “And?” Dean prompted as he came back from the kitchen and set a bottle of beer in front of Sam.  
    “There is no Mitchell anymore.”  
    “What? Like a storm went through?” Dean frowned at the screen.  
    “No, as in… there is no record of it. Anywhere. Historical data is gone, and it’s almost like we’re the only ones who even knew it existed.”  
    “Weird. That place had some decent pecan pie as I recall.” Both Sam and Castiel looked at him and Dean stared back. “What? I remember places like that sometimes.”  
    “Not the death and carnage?” Sam countered dryly.  
    “So we should road trip then,” Dean decided and Castiel stared at them. He could see the strain on Sam already, the exhaustion he was hiding, and he cleared his throat.  
    “Perhaps I should go. I can get there faster than you both after all.”  
    Before Dean could protest, the angel was gone and they were alone again.  
    “He’s tiring himself out, Sam. Looking after us, looking after that tablet which he hid God knows where and now…” He actually shuddered. “He feels bad about Meg.”  
    “Well, maybe. There’s a possibility she’s dead after all. She was sick and I’ve never seen a demon look like that before. What if she missed that afterlife Cas said he took her from and decided the quick way back?” Sam took a long gulp of beer.  
    “You think something went on between them?” Dean asked, still staring at the spot where Castiel had disappeared. “Like they actually did go and do something about that weirdness…”  
    Before he could finish, Sam choked on his beer and Dean turned to look at him.  
    “Ah uh,” Sam wiped the beer from his chin. “Why do you say that?”  
    “Not sure but now I am worried. It’s all we need is for Cas to get attached to a demon while we’re trying to close the Gates of Hell.”

* * *

Castiel walked over the barren ground, and with each careful step he felt the utter wrongness of this place. Miles of empty grass meadows in all directions, a cool wind blowing through, and a gaping maw of reality. This place had been alive and like a fire it had been extinguished and something else thrown over top to try to hide it.  
    “I had wondered when you would show up.”  
    The familiar voice made him turn to see Crowley sitting on a folding chair, his legs crossed and looking only a little miffed. Castiel clenched his hand into a fist but restrained himself from doing more.  
    “What happened here?”  
    “Was hoping you could tell me.” Crowley sneered at him. “I’m just a lowly demon king.”  
    “Did you…?”  
    “Please. Not even I can do all of this and not a single soul went to me. Which is bullocks by the way. I can’t meet my quota if towns just up and disappear.” The demon sat back and popped a few sunflower seeds into his mouth. He cracked them noisily. “I was thinking of all the little angels in all the little heavens, you would know.”  
    “I don’t.” Castiel was careful to keep him at a distance. Learning not to take Crowley for granted had been a hard lesson for him. “Where is Kevin?”  
    Crowley blinked. “From wondering about sheer destruction to a prophet. Singleminded isn’t your best suit but alas, Kevin’s not with me, Sparkles. Little bugger ran off screaming into the night but before I could pick him up, someone else got to him first.”  
    “Good.”  
    “Oh I bet.” Crowley looked him over. “Where did we go wrong, Castiel? We had such a very good deal. We could draw up another contract.”  
    “I am through with deals with your kind.”  
    “Is this because of my killing your play-toy? Please, that’s in the past. The whore wouldn’t have been much use to an angel, you know. Too much of a fighter. In the end she didn’t even scream much for me to want to use her much longer.”  
    The implication of what he’d really done to Meg dropped the temperature around them by ten degrees. Barely breathing through pure rage, Castiel turned with his eyes shining bright.  
    “Oh, so that is it, isn’t it?” Crowley’s smarmy grin turned vile. “You did have something going on with the brat princess. Shame. You likely had high expectations over riding her tight little pus…”  
    “Really, Crowley,” another voice interrupted. “You do use such wretched language.”  
    Angel and demon looked to see Death standing nearby, leaning on his silver-topped cane. Castiel didn’t flinch but Crowley blustered at the unexpected arrival. Death didn’t move nor did his bored pose change.  
    “I am here to oversee the details of what has occurred. So. I am naturally asking you both to leave.” His emotionless gaze fixed on Crowley. “And by the by, you and I are going to have a very long conversation about you using my Reapers. And trying to destroy them. Ajay has to look for a new body to materialize in and I am far too busy. We are going to have a very, very long chat.”  
    Crowley recovered a little bit. “Looking forward to it.”  
    He was gone before either entity or angel could respond and Castiel turned as well but Death cleared his throat to stop him.  
    “Castiel.” Their eyes locked. “Have you found her yet?” The blank look he received was too practiced. “I see. You were given opportunity to bring her back and yet lost her again. The exercise in futility will be good for you. But you won’t find her.”  
    “I can.”  
    “However, when she does find you, you would do well to pay attention to what is really wrong with her.” Death tapped his cane on the ground. “You see, Castiel, what is to come… it may be well out of all your limited imagination. I am afraid I have to direct you to stay very close to your demon.”  
    He almost wanted to deny it but Death’s stare saw too much. “Why would I do that?”  
    “Because, Castiel, much like Sam Winchester and what he holds for Dean, she holds keys to your destruction and your salvation. She is a version of Sam Winchester and what choices she makes will end up changing you as well. The way his does Dean.” Death uncrossed his legs and stood. “Interconnection is difficult to manipulate but even Fate can be changed at times. Fascinating study, the ideals of kismet and pairing. Now, do you know anything about how to properly bring things to a boil?”  
    The angel glared at him before he fluttered away to try to decipher those cryptic words. Death simply rolled his eyes to the sky.  
    “Your children are exasperating.”


	6. Blinding (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg’s escape from Castiel & the Winchesters is plagued by empty feelings of Lethe. Concerned, Castiel pushes himself to exhaustion while struggling to find his charge.

**Blinding (AU When Demons Escape)**

**Part 2  
**

****  
_Three weeks later…_  
      
    It was mid-fist fight when Meg felt the first wave of illness grip her and she let her guard down for the first time in days. The heat scorched over her skin and through her nerves, burning through her so hot that she didn’t dodge the blow coming to her arm in time. The knife buried deep into her forearm, pinning her to the wall and forcing her back. Inwardly, she cursed herself. She hadn’t slipped up in ages.   
    The burly old demon she had been struggling with leaned in close to her face.  
    “Crowley is going to love tearing you apart,” he said, grinning. “Maybe I’ll get to watch this time.”  
    “Keep smiling, pretty boy,” Meg muttered with a smile and gripped her knife tighter. He blinked and she shoved back on him, spinning under his arm to embed her knife partially in his throat. The shock of pain sent him skittering back into the devil’s trap she’d prepared. With an inhuman roar he bounced up and launched at her again, the knife falling out of his sliced throat as he met the invisible barrier and stopped short.  
    His face swam in her vision and she hissed for breath, almost unable to hold herself upright against the heat coursing through her body.  
    “Is this worth it? Destroying your family?” the old demon demanded as he toed the restraining line between them, and Meg shook her head.  
    “Oh, you all stopped being that when you let me hang in Crowley’s rack.” Her body ached from the fight and she had to keep blinking to keep him in focus. “I think we’ve already established that you don’t know what I need. So. This is where I say buh-bye and leave you for the Winchesters.”  
    He cursed at her out of fear as she grinned and opened her phone. Again her vision made the numbers blur and dizzily she staggered to the open door. That familiar pulsing ache from being away from the Lethe hadn’t even hurt much for the past weeks.  Losing herself in her ‘work’, in slowly taking out Crowley’s generals one by one, had kept that from bothering her. No more windows, no more visits from mysterious spirits.  
    Still she was usually so numb though.  
    This ache was different. Stronger but not as painful. It flooded her and made her head grow heavy.  
    Without thinking, she dialled a set of numbers and muttered a location before teleporting out of the area with far more ease than she ever had before. Not her strongest skill but it was easier now. The power that flexed within her made her feel warm and she smiled when she made it to her car.  
    She passed out the second she had the car door safely locked behind her.  
   

* * *

  
    Dean watched Castiel leaning over his books, seeing the weary bend in his shoulders. They’d asked for his help and he’d come willingly to prepare Sam for the remainder of his trials. Loopholes, endless loopholes, and Dean had grown to hate God’s ideas of a dog and pony show. But there was no other choice.  
    “You okay?” he asked as he rested his elbows on the table beside him. Castiel hummed in his throat. “You just seem a little… less Energizer Bunny than normal.”  
    That tiny squint of confusion and then it cleared once he understood the reference. “I’ve been very busy.”  
    “I’m worried about you, Cas. I get that you thought you were in charge of Meg but she’s a demon.”  
    “Your point being?”  
    “That… that doesn’t count in the reasons about why you doing all this to find her is a little messed up?” Dean pointed out. “Everything she’s done doesn’t erase our back history with her.”  
    Castiel didn’t answer him immediately. “You’re my friend, Dean. And so is she. I owed her, I failed her.”  
    “You brought her back from the brink of death, Cas, that should make you more than a little even, right? That should be enough?”  
    With a shrug as it to redistribute the weight of his own guilt, the angel stared at him. “Would it be enough for you if it was me?”  
    Dean only stared at the back of his dark head and wondered if Castiel was hiding something. Again.

* * *

  
    The heater was cranked in the motel room in Kansas but despite that and the four comforters piled high, she couldn’t get warm. Nothing worked. She’d gone out to try to trap another of Crowley’s demons when she’d been so overwhelmed by cold that she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering and given up mid-hunt. The ache it caused crippled her intentions, forced her to hide again. Groaning, with a twist of her tiny body, she buried her head under the pillow.  
    The strangest thing was that the ache wasn’t unpleasant. It hummed and pulsed as much as her despair and apathy over Lethe had but it also relaxed her mind. She actually felt a little soothed.  
    Enough to hear voices wanting her attention. Castiel’s raspy murmur, Oblivion’s seductive drawl and a multitude of others that sounded like waves beating at the inside of her skull.  
    “Stop stop stop,” she moaned angrily at the murmuring in her head but there was no silencing it. That soft glow within her intensified, letting her feel warm and nearly sated again, and instead of fighting it, she buried herself deeper beneath the blankets. She slipped into a doze and tried to stop shaking.  
  
  _Meg popped the buttons on his shirt, fingers digging into skin and muscle to try to hold tight when Castiel kept his mouth pressed to hers and shifted her around to help. Throwing clothes everywhere over the floor, she soon grasped sweated skin to hers and held on when he tried to move a little further into her. Every move screamed desperation and need and she made a small sound when he clutched her wrists and pushed them back onto the shelf to stop her from scratching him. He broke the kiss and moved his lips over her neck, letting her head dip back to reveal a vulnerable expanse of soft skin._  
 _The first thrust he finally made into her had them both gasping._  
 _She hiccuped out a moan as Castiel stared down at her, wide-eyed with a little bit of wonder. The look was edged with an intrigued hunger that nearly warmed her._  
 _“I thought you said that sex was boring. Repetition, you know,” Meg muttered, nipping at his scruffy jaw, and he blinked._  
 _“I lied.” His fingers gripped her wrists tighter and he bent his head, a snatching kiss pressing to her mouth and his thighs lifting her a little. She followed the kiss as best as she could, shifting her hips to his movements._  
 _“Isn’t that a sin?” she muttered on another moan, catching his lip between her teeth and nibbling. He shuddered and grasped her tighter._  
 _“So is this… but I enjoy this more. Perhaps fewer consequences.”_  
  
    The memory made the heat too much and she was aware of sweat slicking down her back, desire pooling between her legs and in her belly. But with it came a bit too much reality. Meg’s eyes popped open and she stared at the white sheets. Her head started to mull over possibilities and the most ridiculous of them of course were thrown away. Then, just as quickly, the ridiculous thoughts were brought back up and shoved into the open.  
    “Things were simpler years ago,” she grumbled to herself as she rolled out of the bed and grabbed her keys and her knife from under the pillow.

* * *

  
    Chuck settled down in his favourite armchair and shuffled the papers, searching for his last place. The type was marked up with notes, some from his newest editor, some from himself with the most resounding from the editor being “What are you doing? Why?”. Those made him grin and think about how to make it worse.  
    “You know, deliberately doing things such as these out of pure enjoyment is a sign of being somewhat sadistic.”  
    Jumping in his seat and sending pages every which direction, Chuck stared at the man who’d appeared, sitting on his couch.  
    With birdlike twitch, the man turned his head towards him and stared. “Hello, Chuck.”  
    Chuck looked around and glanced at his locked door. “Who are you?”  
    “Conversations such as these are often better done where I can have something substantial while I wait for you to catch up. Then we can get down to business as what it is you’ve done to cause such utter chaos.”  
    With a snap of his long spindly fingers, they disappeared from the living-room.

* * *

  
    Castiel exhaled as he tried to follow the demons’ movements. There was a group of them, hunting something in a small town, and he’d been able to keep out of sight for a while now. Dean and Sam had asked him to rest but he couldn’t. He was restless and impatient, waiting for another sign. Instead, he had gone to Garth, to any hunter who would talk to him, to see if anyone had heard word of a blonde demon wandering around.  
    He wasn’t sure why he needed to find her but it was like a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. Death had been warning him but it was more. He **needed** to see her as she was. All that time trying to bring her back couldn’t be a failure now.  
    He should get back to Dean and report what he’d seen.  
    But all it took was for one of the demons to mutter Meg’s name, saying Crowley wanted one hundred percent proof that his whore was dead, and Castiel decided to turn the building into ash when he was done with them.

* * *

  
    Chuck accepted that the man who had taken him out to dinner was Death with far less concern than he had when meeting the Winchesters or Castiel. Things didn’t get much weirder than having pizza with Death so maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something.  
    “So do we know each other or is that hangover worse than I thought?”  
    Death wiped the grease from his fingers. “So you really don’t know? She’d thought you might be lying about that.”  
    “Remembered? I’m in the middle of my third crazy dream of the week and I just… I’m done with it.” Chuck waved his hands in the air, his ratty bathrobe fluttering.   
    Death rolled his eyes. “Oh enough. You may have them all fooled. You may have her sympathy but we are all far too old for such pretence. Time to stop hiding from what you are.”   
    Almost instantly, a change came over Chuck. He lost a little bit of that hazy expression, his eyes cleared, and he looked sharply at Death. Whatever internal decision he’d come to, it made him look at Death as an equal.  
    “Why am I here?”  
    “She had you start another story, didn’t she?” Death scooped a slice of pizza off the pan and passed it to him. Chuck stared at it as if he expected the cheese to bite him.  
    “She did.”  
    “On with.. .a more abrupt ending? I know you had some marvellous plan B created but to tell the truth, the more I follow it the less it even interests me.”   
     “Something like that but I don’t understand why.” Chuck rubbed at his face before picking up his fork. “Sometimes when I write I just know how it should end but this time it has been difficult. I could do so much but nothing was working. All the arcs were dry and old. The story was a mess and I had promised the new book when I was offered that contract. Then she started talking to me, so I changed it.”  
    “Indeed.” Death set down his fork and knife. “So tell me. Why the demon and angel storyline? Redemption?”  
    Chuck shrugged but it was hard not to contain his eagerness. The chance to actually talk about his stories, not with die-hard fans obsessed with erotic subtext, who should sleep with who, or what he did wrong, but someone with actual interest in his methodology was a novelty and he set down his fork again. Who cared if this “Death” was just a figment of his imagination?  
    “Just this idea you know? Sort of something to snag attention. Something different though I’m not even really sure where I’m going with it quite yet. These stories don’t really affect the real world anymore anyway. They haven’t since I stopped years ago so what’s the harm? But then this new idea… the idea that you can have two characters, like Dean and Sam, and create their perfect parallels in side characters. But I had to…”  
    Death waved his hand. “Spare me the plots and subplots of your fantasies.”  
    “It seemed like a plan at the time.”  
    “So somehow combining an angel like Castiel with a demon such as…” Death had to think it over to find the appropriate name Chuck would know offhand, “Meg seemed like a good idea.”  
    Chuck grinned and grabbed his pizza again to take a lusty bite. “Come on. A sex scene in the middle of a new Supernatural novel when they aren’t expecting it? Fans will go crazy for it. Hate mail and happy mail galore. Any publicity is good publicity.”  
    “And the consequences?”  
    “Makes for interesting times.”   
    Death blinked. “Surely your own sense of self-righteousness would have a problem with the consequences that this “moment” may cause. A demon impregnated by an angel.”  
    Chuck stared as he chewed his way through the pizza crust.  
    “You’re making it sound really sterile and cold,” he muttered finally.  
    “I thought you had made such things blasphemous.”  
    “Rules are always being bent and broken. Why not? What Meg will be part of right now will be nothing short of divine.” Chuck tried not to sound defensive but he was already fond of the idea. Whether he understood the irony of his words or not, Death wasn’t sure.  
    “It is most unusual. Such a thing hasn’t existed since… ever. A tortured soul, birthing another that will already have been touched by Hellfire yet soothed by Grace.”  
    “Too cliché?” Chuck asked earnestly.  
    “A bit but most certainly it is irregular. Does Sheol know what you did?”  
    “Sheol?” It took him some time to figure out who Death meant but that spark of memory came back of a woman murmuring in his ear to write. Chuck fidgeted. “She asked me to create a story. She has no say in how I create it or how it goes.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “So lets say you are Death. Why are you interested? I thought you were above this. You were always so… snobbish when I pictured you.”  
    “I have interests here. I am always waiting for something to surprise me.” Death fixed him with a look, seeing that Chuck was starting to retain part of his old self. It nearly made him smile. “Though this… is a surprise.”  
    Chuck beamed. “Glad I could help.”

* * *

  
    A small section of the nearest Wal-Mart burned down in less than ten minutes. No casualties except for the garden center and nothing really that suspicious about it. Firemen ran in and out, trying to make sure that no one was hurt and everyone was clear just in case the fire reached the fertilizer and gas. No one knew the cause but no one was taking chances.  
    The source of it, wanting a bit of distraction and a bit of destruction for the hell of it, hid in the women’s bathroom. Ignoring the smell of smoke and burning plastic, Meg sat on the counter and stared at her hand. Her jacket suddenly felt uncomfortably tight over her breasts as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes were black as she stared at the plastic strip in her hand, one that she was setting on fire.  
    “You have to be kidding me.”  
    The sign over the bathroom sink of _“In case of emergency, dial 911”_   was almost laughing at her but Meg couldn’t do more than sit and stare.  
    Go figure.   
    “This is so wrong.”

* * *

  
    Castiel walked by the burning Wal-Mart, coat fluttering around him and imposing stride parting the crowds, and yet somehow he was able to be nearly invisible to every human who looked in his direction. He looked at the crowds, seeing some people suffering from smoke inhalation and hooked up to oxygen. They weren’t suffering badly but it was clear they needed help. It diverted him from his intention of making his slow way back to Dean and Sam and he started going from person to person, healing them with barely a thought. It gave him a sense of purpose again and he gently patted a child’s head when the boy thanked him, one of the few to actually see him.  
    When he glanced up, he thought he saw a blonde woman through the flames on the other side of the building. Instead of drifting away, he stared after her as she walked to her car and got in. That urge to check to see if it was Meg, the same urge that had made him wander this far out, made him decide that maybe Dean was right.  
    Maybe he needed to try to find some peace.  
    Maybe he was exhausting himself for nothing more than a remnant.  
    For some reason, as he watched the old sedan peel out of the parking lot, he knew he couldn’t let it go. Not yet.   
    Stubborn. That’s what Meg was. Proud and stubborn and the most exasperating thing to come into his life since Dean Winchester.  
    “Give me strength,” Castiel muttered as he looked up at the sky and wondered if God was mocking him.

* * *

  
    The longer she stayed curled up on the couch, the more she couldn’t resist the idea of leaving. Of finding a way to go back.  
    But as her hand rested on her stomach, that soft peace that had been going through her grounded her as well. Kept her still. Demons were inherently restless; the nature of what they were made it so. So whatever was affecting her was making her feel unnerved but not frightened. She wasn’t sure what was inside her or if she was just imagining things.  
    Positive or not, what the test had said was an impossibility and she was sticking to that ideal.  
    “It had better not be possible.”  
    Lucifer, she couldn’t stop staring at the phone.  
    “Don’t be stupid,” she muttered to herself. “If it was possible, you’re a sitting duck and you’re going to get yourself killed.”  
    It felt strange though.  
    As if something pushed inside of her brain and given her a sense of direction she didn’t have before. That urge to help the Winchesters close the Gates was gone, replaced with an innate need to protect. She had never had that urge before, not even around Castiel, never to that level. It was self-protection and instinct.  
    But what did any of it mean? She wasn’t stupid. Angels and demons had done that blasphemous tango before, she knew, (no elder demon alive hadn’t heard the rumours about things that had happened during the Crusades), but things like this didn’t happen. They weren’t compatible. Never had been, which was why her hour with Castiel was all it could ever be.   
    An hour, then over and done with. Nothing more.   
    Maybe it was a meatsuit thing.  
    Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Oblivion’s reflection in the old curio cabinet.  
    ** _“This would be so much simpler, Meg, if you simply stuck to our plan. Within months, you won’t have to worry about this.”_**  
    “Yeah?” Meg snarled and she cranked up the radio to try to drown out that voice. “Something tells me you’re lying. I just wanted to be left alone this time.”  
    She looked at the phone again and shuddered as exhaustion began to deepen inside of her. She was tired, sore from her last fight, and already on the edge. Her hand was on the phone and dialling the numbers before she could stop herself.  
    She just needed to see if this was real.  
    It took her four different tries to get the right number. Winchesters were pretty predictable. They only ever changed the last digit of their numbers.  
    “Yeah?” Dean answered and Meg rolled her eyes at the way he was chewing in her ear.  
    “All right, quick question: is the angel with you?”  
    Dean choked. “Meg?”  
    There was a rustling sound, as if they were all fighting over the phone suddenly. She heard Dean tell Sam to keep Castiel back and then there was more scuffling and then he was back on the phone again.  
    “Meg?”  
    “No, it’s Sasha Grey from your fantasies. What other chick calls you?” Meg drawled. “Been liking the presents I’ve been leaving for you?”  
    “Bunch of dead demons. Yeah, we just found your last one in the park. I figured you had something to do with it. Had bitch written all over it what with the “What? Can’t do your own job” sign written on the playground set.”  
    “Cute. Is he there?”  
    More rustling but still Dean had control. “Who?”  
    “Don’t be a bitch. Put him on.” Another long pause and then she heard Dean snapping something at Sam from a distance. The phone had been passed off and she waited for a few minutes before rolling her eyes. “Castiel?”  
    “Meg? Meg, where are you? Are you all right? Are you hurt? Tell me where you are.”   
    She smirked. “Lots of questions there, feathers. Did you even breathe between them?”  
    “Where are you?”  
    “I’m not ready for that, I just—” Oh this was going to sound stupid but that slight push in her forced her to blurt it out. “I wanted to hear your voice.”  
    Castiel paused before asking in a low, concerned voice, “Why?”  
    “Because then something is still the same, I guess.”  
    “Meg, I need to know where you are. I - I want to know.”  
    “I get that. But I’m fine on my own, as always.”  
    The radio began blaring about some special contest and she winced as it vibrated through her already aching head.  
    “I told you I would help you.”  
    “I don’t need protecting, I don’t need care taking.” She almost bristled up at the thought of being that… weak.   
    “Are you still dreaming?”  
    “No.”  
    “You’re lying to me. I can always tell when you give too direct an answer and don’t insult me.” He was moving, she could hear it. “I want to see you.”  
    “Why?” It sounded stupid to keep putting him off. Hang up, she told herself. He won’t have answers. Hell, she didn’t even know the right question.  
    “I just do.”  
    Meg laughed darkly shifted around to get comfortable on the dingy couch. “Then you’ll be waiting for a long…” A soft, familiar whooshing sound and the bushes outside rattled loudly. Glancing over her shoulder, Meg nearly dropped the phone. The sight of the angel just outside her motel room window made her stare. “Time.”  
    He didn’t put his phone away, just glared at her with narrow blue eyes and firm jaw clenched as he ground out, “I doubt that very much.”  
    The demon put the phone down and watched as he opened the door and came in, eyeing her almost covertly as if to reassure himself. “Your stalking is getting better.”  
    “I heard the radio.” He pocketed Dean’s cell and rolled his eyes. “It was a mere matter of pinpointing which station via frequency.”  
    They stared at each other for a minute before Meg couldn’t take it any longer. Castiel just kept staring at her.  
    “Something wrong with my face?”  
    “You look very tired.” He crossed a few steps towards her and sat down. Meg watched the way his hands twitched and his eyes darted over the room. “I had thought maybe you might be feeling better but you look the same.”  
    Meg wrinkled her nose. “Concern. Cute. You look like hell too.”  
    Castiel ran his hand over his stubbly cheek. “I’ve been busy. Trying to keep up with you.” Blue eyes went over her face, closely watching the way she kept herself on the couch and protectively hid her hand from him. “How have you been hiding?”  
    “I got tricks, remember?” Meg tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and froze as Castiel reached out. Ignoring the way she stared at him, he took her hand in his and turned it over. His finger traced the lines in her palm carefully.  
    “The damage you did to your vessel is being repaired.” He was staring hard at her fingers, as if he could see the bones and the wards she’d carved. “I can feel you now, sense you, and the wards are fading. How is that possible?”  
    She jerked her tingling hand free. “You got me. I thought these were for infinity and beyond.” Nervously, she stood up and stalked to the other side of the room, as far away as she could get. “You… you don’t see anything else? Different?”  
    When she turned around, he was right behind her and about two inches too close.  
    “Hell, stop doing that!”  
    Ignoring her, he ran his eyes over her tiny frame and his gaze lingered on certain areas. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps your upper area is fuller than I remember.”  
    Meg reached out and forced his chin up, barely able to hide her smirk. “Hey, feathers. My eyes are up here. Stop checking out my breasts.”  
    A tiny smile quirked on his lips. “You asked if something was different about you. And I was not checking out anything more than your health.” He stared at her and slowly all humour slipped away from him. “Why did you run?”  
    “All little birds have to fly, Castiel.”  
    “I frightened you,” he said. “I can tell.”  
    “You did not. I’m just… better on my own.”  
    “Then why did you call Dean? Knowing I’d be there and that I’d find you. Unless you wanted me to find you.” Castiel held his ground.  
    “Not everything is about you.”  
    “Something else then.”  
    Meg stared at him nervously. If he didn’t notice then it was possible that she was imagining things.  
    Which, considering the past weeks, was pretty damn possible.  
    Castiel waited patiently and she ran her eyes over him.  
    Damn. He really wasn’t going to leave and now with him standing here she wasn’t really sure why she’d called him anymore.  
    But before she could think of something clever enough to scare him off, she felt the air grow hot and sticky, the smell of sulphur suddenly overwhelming. The lights flickered on and off and Meg turned around. Her skin crawled and her eyes slid to black instinctively, trying to see what was doing it. “Cas… something’s coming.”  
    She walked steadily back into him until they were pressed together, his back to hers and his hand grasping her wrist tight. Castiel kept her steady, holding her from running off or from charging forward, and his grip kept her from falling when a sudden gust of wind slammed through the motel room. Castiel’s breathing went shallow and she felt his Grace seething out around them. He was angry with her, she knew it, but at least this would distract him.  
    The motel room door swung back open and six tall, muscular demons walked in. They all reeked of borrowed power and it made Meg’s inner protectiveness flare out. She wanted to rip them all to pieces because these ones she recognized.  
    Castiel’s hand tightened on her arm to keep her still.  
    “Oh, this is almost so rich it is fattening,” Crowley’s voice was obnoxiously loud as he entered the motel room. Castiel whirled on his heel and faced him but Meg simply closed her eyes.  
    “I thought you had wards up,” the angel murmured at her.  
    Meg’s eyes stayed shut. “I’ve been too tired to start.”  
    She missed the concerned look he shot her, his eyes widening as he really looked at her.  
    “I’ve got the one angel I want to torture and the one demon who… should be dead. Come on now, this really is an unholy reunion that makes me tingle in all the naughty places.” Crowley leaned against the couch. “You know, if you play your cards just right we can have a right threesome.”  
    “Overstuffed pansy,” Meg muttered, eyes opening as she took a step forward. Castiel grabbed her by her arm and slowly moved her behind him, eyes locked on Crowley. The King of Hell merely looked them over.  
    Crowley grinned at Meg but there was a hint of something close to fear in his eyes. “Heard you were alive. How is that possible?”  
    The angel stayed in front of her and Meg felt her frustration seethe in her that he was still trying to protect her. “I did it,” Castiel growled out and Crowley gave him an impressed look.  
    “Interesting. There never has been a demon to return. Bet your little skull is full of goodies now, eh, Meg?”  
    Tossing her hair out of her eyes, Meg kept one eye on the demons at her side.  
    “Only came back to kill you.”  
    “Did you?” Crowley circled them slowly, his one man following like a shadow. “Interesting. Out of some morbid curiosity, why?”  
    Meg stepped around Castiel but Crowley held up his hand to stop her.  
    “I mean, since when has anything you’ve done come to success? Any plan? You’re a failure, Meg,” Crowley stopped circling, “a miserable excuse for an old one. Our kind used to have dignity but you dragged it through the mud in your rebellion. You’re nothing.”  
    His barb struck through her armour, piercing that part of her that she often hid well. She stiffened as he pulled out an angel sword. “Recognize this? I’m going to put it back where it belongs. Deep inside you.”  
    Meg turned away and saw Castiel had pulled his own blade. “Time to go.”  
    He looked down at her. Every intense need for vengeance was etched in his face. He was angry with her but he was also ready to save her. Numbers weren’t in their favour in this space.  
    “This is where we run. He wants us to fight. Let’s not give it to him.”  
    “Oh, I think you will.  
    Castiel was so focussed on her eyes that he lost track of Crowley. With a whisper of movement, the King of Hell twisted and threw the blade. It slammed to the hilt into Meg’s shoulder, and she gasped, sagging forward into Castiel. He grabbed her, running his hand over the blade as she gripped his shoulders.  
    “It’s okay, s’kay,” she muttered, head leaning into his neck. “He’s a shit shot.”  
    Castiel stared at the depth of the blade before looking down at her face. It should have killed her but he could feel her heartbeat and thorny soul still pulsing as loud and clear as ever. Grasping her by the waist, he tried to keep her close to protect her as the demons circling closed in.  
    Crowley bristled. “I think you’ll find we need a good fight so that we…”  
    The angel and demon were gone in a heartbeat of time and he was staring at the empty motel room.  
    “Oh for the love of…” He turned to his minions. “Well? Find something of hers. Bitch would have left something! Anything to let us know what the hell she’s been up to!”  
    As they all scuttled to do his bidding, Crowley took a seat on the couch and grabbed the gossip magazine she’d left behind.  
  


* * *

  
  
    “Son of a bitch!” Dean yelped as Castiel reappeared in the diner parking lot. He’d left them just as they pulled in and had picked Meg up apparently on his return.  
    Sam jerked awake from where he’d been dozing on the hood of the Impala when Dean slammed his fist into the roof.  “Get up, Sammy, we got company.”  
    Castiel shifted Meg’s light weight in his arms. “She’s hurt.”  
    “I’m perfectly fine, hot wings. Just lemme go.” She tried to put him off. “It’s a flesh wound.”  
    “I’m invincible!” Dean mimicked under his breath and Meg glared at him next, catching the quip. “I mean, good to see you, Meg.”  
    “Yeah, I’m sure, short round.” She squirmed until Castiel put her down. Sam yawned and stepped around the Impala.  
    “What happened?”  
    “Crowley.” Castiel was trying to check the demon’s wound but she kept swatting him off, narrowly dodging his hands. The angel stared at her and then glanced down at the angel sword he’d pulled free from her shoulder.  
    “Who else?” Meg snapped as she tried to tug down her shirt with her uninjured hand. She looked around and saw the all-night diner sign. The blood dripping down her hand started to splatter on the pavement. “Hell, I am so… tired of this.”  
    She was already walking off before Castiel could stop her.   
    “Well, you have to admire her recovery time,” Dean commented as he came next to Castiel and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. The angel looked so immensely perplexed that it was almost worth the wait. “Women, eh? Even demon women.”  
    Castiel watched Meg walk ahead of him, saw the way she looked over her shoulder at them, and shook his head even as their eyes met. “I doubt that statements covers my problem sufficiently.”


	7. Mercy (When Demons Deny)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again under Castiel’s protection, Meg struggles with believing the impossible and the tension between them starts to build again as the Winchesters continue to try to close the Gates of Hell.

_**[MEME Prompt](http://demonofdiscord.tumblr.com/post/48618886706/clarencetheunicorn-you-do-realize-sheol-is):**   
_

**Mercy**   ** _(When Demons Deny )_**

**Part 1 _  
_**

Meg cursed as she pulled the bloody shirt away from her damaged shoulder. It hurt, worse than she expected, but she could feel the ruptured skin struggling to knit over and heal. Something was stalling it though, burning through her faster than she could control her own power.

Rotating her shoulder, she stared at her pale reflection.  She saw her true self lingering under the surface and watched as the image began to flicker and fade until she was translucent.

Oblivion stared back, thin eyebrow arched high. **“So now you know that you can’t run from any of this. This can’t end well, my dove.”**

“Leave me alone,” Meg hissed back and, using her power with the wave of a hand, she cracked the mirror. Ignoring the splintered reflection, she pulled her shirt over her head and checked the depth of the wound carefully.

“Fucking Crowley.”

Her fingers dipped into the edges of the wound. It was close, too close to her heart, and she realized that she had been very lucky. Lucky: that was a new one. Hard to believe that when her shoulder burned and she was on the run again.

But his words had cut deeper than the blade. Mostly because they were true. She had failed. Repeatedly.

“May I check?” Castiel’s quiet voice made her jump and jerk her head up to see him standing behind her. He looked still and quiet, strangely tired, and she stared into his face. His eyes ran over her back and then finally met hers.

Something told her that if she refused he was going to do it anyway.

“Knock yourself out, blue eyes.” She tossed her hair out of her eyes and continued to stare at him though his gaze was on her back again. His hand slid along her shoulder blades, pushing her hair away and judging the wound for himself. He wiped the blood smears away and Meg watched his expression through the mirror. 

It was unreadable, even when she winced from the burning his power gave her when it slid over her skin.

“It’s already healing,” he muttered, thumb brushing over the bloody patches of new skin. Meg shook her head and looked away, not seeing the look in his eyes as he watched the skin glow and heal over. He recognized that light.

A glow not unlike his.

He slid his thumb in a circle over the wound and wondered what she was hiding.

“Fast healer, you know?” she offered casually, looking over her shoulder to see for herself when the ache started to leave.

“You are different, somehow.” Castiel stared at the back of her head, struggling to come up with a description. “Not softer, kinder, or anything like that. Just different.”

“Creature of purpose, that’s me,” Meg drawled as she pulled her shirt back over her head.

“I’m glad you are all right,” he said, almost too soft for her to hear and she raised her eyebrows. 

“Let’s not get too hopeful. The night is still young.”

Castiel only watched as she left him alone in the bathroom again.

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight,” Dean started as a plate of pancakes was put in front of Meg. Both demon and angel had reappeared and she’d insisted on ordering something instead of just leaving. “Suddenly you eat?”

“Suddenly you ask first and knife later. Aren’t we all maturing?” she asked as she stabbed a fork into the first layer and shovelled it into her mouth. Dean blinked as he stared at her and her obstinately twisted grin and then looked at Sam who sat beside her.

“Demons don’t really… need to eat,” his brother pointed out, glancing with a grimace at his own food. Castiel was watching her closely as well, and he and Dean exchanged a look. “I mean you can but you…”

She ignored them. “I’m allowed to eat.” 

Sam rubbed his hand over his mouth as he watched her. Meg caught the look he gave her. “What?” she demanded thickly.

“Comfort food?” he asked.

“Something like that. Sometimes I want sugar and carbs like you wouldn’t believe. Good thing the demon I am keeps the pounds at bay.” She put her fork down and chewed, looking at Dean thoughtfully. “Least I won’t be like Dean-o there and get a little kangaroo paunch going on.”

He sucked in his stomach. “I do not have a paunch.”

Reaching across the table, Sam whacked his gut. “Sure you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Dean glared at him, “the point is, Meg tracked us down and first thing she does when Cas rescues her like some textbook hero is want food.”

“Maybe she’s gone human. That’s not possible, isn’t it?”

“Looks like Meg to me,” Dean said, tilting his head. 

She flicked her gaze between the two men and the angel, curiously blinking her eyes.

Only Castiel stared back with any sign of real concern.

“Could be a shapeshifter with the same body,” Sam agreed.

Rolling her eyes up, Meg put her hand on the table and gestured. Taking the hint, Dean pulled his knife and sliced a neat line on her wrist.

The blood shimmered and the skin slit apart immediately, a faint smell of sulphur following it with blood weeping down her arm. Castiel blinked and watched, wondering why they didn’t trust his opinion that this was Meg. Before they could see the way it began to glow and heal, Meg rotated her hand back towards her to hide it. But there was no real pain on her face or worry about the wound.

Sam cleared his throat. “That solves that.”

“I would know very well if Meg was a shapeshifter,” Castiel declared irritably and the demon rolled her eyes.

“That might be too much information for sweet Dean there, Clarence,” she muttered.

“Wait, what?” Dean demanded, looking between the two.

“I’m allowed to want food at the very least to keep me from killing you both,” Meg continued as she rubbed her fingers over her bloody palm. Wiping the blood on a napkin, she picked up her fork and resumed eating. Unable to argue with that, Dean frowned at Sam and picked up his coffee cup. Sam only pushed his eggs around on his plate and tried not to turn green at the smell of ketchup.

Shaking his head, Castiel looked at the angel sword he’d pulled from Meg’s shoulder mid-flight. It was still stained with her blood, the shining silver dulled from too much use, and he frowned at it. Strange that Crowley seemed to have such an endless supply of these. Stranger still that something about Meg’s blood on such a blade made him angry.

The sound of her fork dropping on the plate made him look up at her. She looked nauseous and the expression was so strange on her face that he tilted his head and blinked. 

There was a moment where she actually was about to vomit and he leaned forward to warn Sam. But with a quick shake of her head, she recovered and pushed her plate away.

“Right. So. It’s been a real slice, but I’ll be seeing you jerks later,” Meg declared off-hand. Dean and Sam stared in surprise as she climbed over Sam, muttering “How did Ruby do this so much? Like climbing Mt. Everest” while she rattled the table. Sam froze in his spot, looking a little terrified, as she shoved her way through and then hopped down. With a casual flick her hand, she walked out the door.

“Ah, did you want to give us some money? Meg!” Dean called out but he heard a flutter beside him that let him know Castiel was gone as well. Sam shook his head.

“Better leave this to Cas, Dean. Least if she punches him she can’t hurt him,” Sam pointed out. Reaching out, Dean grabbed Meg’s half-finished plate for himself and happily poured more syrup on it.

“Good plan. I’m starving.”

* * *

 

Meg made it halfway through the parking lot before a flicker in the corner of her eye made her stop. An old pickup truck with blacked out windows held her reflection perfectly and she turned towards it.

Oblivion stared at her. **“Don’t do this, Meg. Don’t make me take control.”**

“Control?” Meg slapped her hand on her thigh. “I just want to be left alone. I wanted to go back and he pulled me back!”

Oblivion’s reflection tilted her head. **“Then why are you staying when you know how to come back? The only way to come back to me if you won’t do as I planned.”**

No answer was going to be one she wanted to admit to. All of them were against her nature.

Without a thought, Meg slammed her fist into the window and shattered it to get rid of that mocking face.

Muttering to herself, she turned and banged promptly into Castiel.

“I am putting a bell on you, I swear to Hell!” she snapped. He put his hands in the air defensively.

“I called your name repeatedly.”

She stalled at that. Had he? Had she actually been so lost that she hadn’t heard him?

There might be a double meaning in there that she didn’t want to even think on.

“Come to give me a kiss good-bye?” she offered seductively, slipping into old habits easily. Castiel’s eyes narrowed a little, just a tiny fraction, that let her know he wasn’t buying it.

“I want you to stay with us.”

“Been with that threesome before, it gets old fast,” Meg said flippantly, going to move by him. But he kept her in her place by simply standing in front of her and staring down. She stepped away until her back met the truck.

“I think you mistook that for me giving you an option.” His voice dropped an impossible octave. “I did not work to bring you back, healing you, for the sake of you getting killed. I said I would help you get well and I will. I will protect you.”

She gave him a snarky grin. “That’s sweet, Clarence. What makes you think I need protecting?”

Cruelly, he reached out and grasped her shoulder before she could dodge him. His thumb pressed into her still aching wound so hard that it dug through muscle and she cried out in pain, her eyes flicking to black. Without thinking she lashed out with her fist. He caught her wrist in his hand and whipped her around, locking his arm around her shoulders to keep her still.

“Because I can do that.” His breath tickled her ear and she jerked her head away a little to try to ease the sensation. “You’re strong, Meg, but I am stronger than you. You need to stop running long enough to heal properly. I can tell you are not yourself and I want to help you.”

“Want or need?” Her head rocked back on his shoulder so she could look up at him. “Maybe I’m just a pity case to help you absolve some little guilt you have about joining Team Free Will.”

He let her go with a disgusted sigh and, when she turned, gave her the sort of look that nearly made her teeth grind.

“It seems like you care about which one it is,” he pointed out and she rolled her eyes. “You are staying with me. I know you are hiding something but I can’t tell what it is.”

“Cold day in Hell, Clarence, before you figure out a thing about me,” she taunted, glad to be back on old familiar footing with him. Castiel as a sometime-enemy. That was safe. That was what she needed to get through this.

“Then we are in this for eternity, Meg.”

The sense of finality in those words made her flinch and when he pointed to the Impala she went obediently, inwardly nervous about what he was going to do if she didn’t. Smiting wasn’t on his mind. He might trap her though and after weeks of freedom she wasn’t ready for that.

* * *

 

Castiel stared at the back of her as she walked, aware of Dean sliding up beside him. He was nudged in the shoulder when he didn’t look around. 

“Bitch being a bitch?” Castiel glared at him and Dean went a bit pale at the anger in that look. “Just sayin’.”

“She is being difficult but she’ll travel with you. I need to ask a favour, Dean. I need her to be kept in the Impala for a while until you get back to the bunker. She can be kept in the panic room, if you don’t mind.”

“Long as she doesn’t get near the books or stuff. You’re sure that’s a good idea?” Dean asked. “Because I’ve dealt with a cornered Meg before and you’re backing her into a big one, Cas.”

The angel stared at him. 

“You could just wing her off to there, you know, meet us there?” Dean shrugged. “I’m not Meg’s biggest fan and I really don’t like the thought of being in a car with her when she could slice my throat.”

“I won’t be leaving you alone with her. I just won’t be in sight.”

The Hunter blinked. “You’re going to spy on her.”

“Something is wrong and for all our safety I have to find out what it is.” Castiel rubbed at his chin. “There is something, Dean. I just can’t see what it is.”

“Demon getting grumpy maybe?” Dean grumbled but the angel shook his head.

“Nothing like that. I can still see her true self, strange as it looks. I just… know something is wrong. Please.” Castiel looked at him, eyes wide, and Dean huffed.

“Jesus, enough with the puppy eyes. Leave you alone with Sam too long one too many times and he teaches you that.” Dean shrugged his shoulders and watched Meg impatiently shove Sam out of her way to get in his car. “World is screwed up enough, you know? Without you and a demon getting…”

He turned only to find Castiel gone.

“Weird.”

* * *

 

Death had watched the small demon for a while. He’d been ignored in the diner, which said much for Castiel’s ‘abilities’, and he’d had time to watch. What he’d witnessed was nothing unusual but he’d seen the change in the demon more clearly now that he’d bee close, and he could see the change in Sam Winchester as well. When the angel disappeared and the Impala pulled out of the parking lot, he picked up his bag and headed for the door. 

The instant he stepped through the frame, he was back in Lethe, its whitewashed warmth curling around him. The sun was shining through the skylight and he glimpsed a few souls wandering around the perimeter of the room. But nothing had changed. The same high gothic columns, the same comfortable couch, and the tablets all laid out like stepping stones on the floor. 

Death took a seat and set his bag on the floor.

“Oblivion. Sheol.”

The call was simple, her borrowed name rolling out like an echo, and he waited patiently as seconds ticked by. The entity was close enough that he could feel her anger. The warmth in this place was no longer just because of its peace but because its entity was upset. Lethe was almost boiling under the weight of her emotions though the souls still trekked through peacefully.

“Sheol, enough. Come and speak to me before you do something you regret.”

Like a shadow, she slipped out from behind a pillar, head upturned and her fingers trailing down her stomach slowly. The fake sunlight bathed her, her midnight blue gown startling in the middle of the white room. Her pale skin was glowing as she stared at the ceiling.

“He did something to try to trick me,” she whispered. “I always knew he was a trickster at heart.”

“Yes, well, one only had to look at the creation of the platypus to see that,” Death said as he opened his bag and fished out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers from imaginary dust.

Sheol’s eyes fixed on him. “You approve of this?”

Death shook his head. “I did not say that.”

“When I asked him to write her into the story, I wanted her to be their ally, not some… experiment!” she hissed and her hand opened. A pool of water appeared between them and she tipped her bare toes into it, causing a ripple.

“God has an idea. As ever, he wants to see how it goes. You did not specify how he could use her.” Death cleared his throat. “So if you were to look at it honestly, sister, you are the one at fault. We all know better.”

She stared at him while she walked over the pool of water.

“There is a very likely prospect that whatever it is she carries will not live. Such experiments as these usually die within their first week if they are even born at all.” Death looked at the tablet for the Leviathan. “Most anyway.”

“You think that something with the grace of an angel and touched by Hellfire will be something so easy to kill?”

Death merely continued, “And you decimated a town for no more reason than the sake of your anger. That is not right and you know it. The souls have to live their time through.”

“Rules, rules, rules!” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “His endless rules see them all die, be damned for simple things such as wanting to end abuse or hate, for wanting freedom. I am sick of such rules.”

His dark eyes fixed on her. “Sheol. Do not do what you are thinking of doing. This is not the way to free any of them. Allow me to speak to him first.”

She smirked.

“It solves nothing. He has endlessly kept me at bay and has used others to do so. Whatever it is that she carries is just another barrier.”

He was thrown out of Lethe with a mere casual wave of her hand. 

Dusting off his coat sleeves, Death sighed and looked around. The diner was gone, as if it never existed, and he couldn’t feel a soul around.

“Oh well.” He snapped and his cane appeared in his hand. “Now it is far more complicated than before.”

* * *

 

Meg dozed in the back-seat, eyes listlessly watching the way the trees went by. The Winchesters bickered back and forth over what Zeppelin song was their favourite. They’d ignored her for half an hour and short of stabbing herself in the eardrums, she had nothing more to do than listen to them.

Every now and then, she’d tap her fingers on her flat stomach and wonder. If Castiel couldn’t feel anything, then she was likely just insane.

Not too far a stretch lately.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean swerved to miss a pedestrian, which resulted in a loud swearing match that might have made her grin if it didn’t cause the ache in her head to worsen.

The yelling wasn’t bad compared to knowing that she was being watched ever since they’d left the diner.

Eventually it became too much to ignore.

“Okay, I can feel you there, featherbrain. Come out or I’m jumping ship right now and you can all play lonely sailors together,” she said loudly, causing Sam to jump and turn to look at her as if she was crazy. Dean swore and swerved again as Castiel fluttered into the back-seat.

He looked more upset at being caught than Meg’s insult.

“How did you know I was…”

She rolled her eyes. “I could feel you staring.”

Castiel stared, puzzled. That she’d felt his presence, enough to call him out, was different from demons or humans before.

There were a few tense moments of everyone being too afraid to talk before Meg glanced at the angel.

“Stop that.”

From his side of the Impala, Castiel blinked at her. “Stop what?”

“Staring at me like that.”

Dean glanced at them in the rear-view. Sam gave the pair an exhausted look and then cuddled back down to nap in the passenger side. He was sound asleep when Dean checked on him and then on Castiel again.

Least they weren’t making out, he thought with a bit of disgust.

“I am not staring at you,” Castiel muttered back. “I am merely… looking out your window.”

“Right. Stop it.”

Dean cleared his throat. “If you two can’t get along, then I am pulling this car over right now.”

Obstinately, Meg looked away from Castiel and the angel instead stared at the back of Dean’s head instead.

For some reason, his dream of Death and the words “boil over” kept coming to Dean’s mind the more he thought of Meg being around Castiel.

* * *

 

Chuck came to with a headache that reminded him why he should give up alcohol again. It pounded through every part of his head and even down his spine, until he slowly crawled up off the floor and grabbed hold of the edge of his desk. After that strange dream, he’d drunk himself into a stupor and had fallen off his chair sometime during the night.

His laptop blinked on low battery and he checked the time. Still before dawn and he wearily stared at the screen. No point in writing anything when he was ready to throw up.

Soft fingers slid into his hair and lifted his head back.

_“You just had to interfere.”_

He barely had time to blink before his forehead was slammed back down onto the desk hard. Crossing his eyes, he fell into unconsciousness fast and lay sprawled under his desk.

* * *

 

Dean winced at the loud angry shouting going on down below as he closed Sam’s bedroom door. Sam had promptly collapsed the moment his face had met the pillow and it was easier to just tuck him in than wake him back up.

Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, Dean headed down below to see what was causing the ruckus.

“You self-righteous prick!” Meg snarled as he came within hearing and he blinked, thinking she was talking to him. But Castiel stood across from her, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes on the demon as she stalked within the limits of a large redrawn devil’s trap. The cell she’d been kept in before was comfortable enough but the wards and trap had pissed her off.

Dean would have said she resembled a tiny dog yipping at a bigger dog if it wasn’t for the fact that she might kill him.

“This is for your own protection.”

“Oh yeah.” Meg came to the edge of the painted lines. “Because nothing screams freedom like being stuck in a trap.”

“Well, I’m not trusting you around all our books and junk any more than I did before,” Dean said to let them know he was there. Castiel glanced at him. “So you’re staying in there. It was partly my idea.”

“Why? Afraid I’m going to knife you in your sleep?” she spat out as she turned away.

“Something like that.” 

The vibration of his phone going off made him turn away from the arguing creatures. The number was unlisted and without a second thought he clicked answer.

“Yeah?”

“Dean?” A shaky voice that was hopeful and exhausted made him stare at the phone. “Dean, that you?”

“Kevin?”

That had Castiel’s attention but Dean waved him off. 

“Where are you?”

“You’re not going to believe me if I told you. I’m near… Wichita, I think. I woke up here.” The prophet sounded like he was ready to drop. “Can you… can you come get me? There’s some really big truckers who’ve been eyeing me at this bus stop.”

Dean snorted. “Sure thing. Give me a few hours. Hide yourself if you can and call me in two hours.”

Castiel blinked at him, eyes no longer on Meg.

“That was our boy prophet. Wichita.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah no.” Dean waved his hand at Meg who had resorted to sitting on her cot and glaring at them. “Last time you left her alone, she escaped. And since you made it real clear that that’s not what you want, you get to watch her till she calms the hell down. I’ll take Sam.”

“Oh good. Leave the angelic lapdog to watch me.”

Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Dean looked over at Meg and smirked.

“Could have insisted he give you a salt bath instead. Think on that.”

She touched her chest as if he’d actually made her emotional. “Oh, princess, I don’t think you know what that means to me. Really.”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other. “You know, I prefer when she was a bit nuts and quiet.”

The angel shrugged and didn’t answer though Dean could have sworn he’d seen him smile.

* * *

 

Kevin was shaking from cold and hunger when they picked him up at the rear of the truck stop. His clothes were ragged and torn and he looked ready to fall over, but he was alive at least. Giving them both a weary smile, he was startled when Dean swung him into a hug.

“You lucky little prophet.”

“Thanks. I feel lucky.” He squirmed out of the hold and Dean grinned. Kevin glanced at Sam next and what he saw made him whistle. “You look like Hell.”

Sam snorted and looked him over as well. “Yeah well, you don’t look so hot either.”

Dean waved at the empty parking lot behind them. “So, Kev, what’s with the downgrade from Garth’s? You’ve been gone for a few months.”

“Not sure. One second I was dreaming of Crowley tormenting me. Then I was walking. Lots of walking. Then I woke up here. In a ditch and smelling like I’d drunk far too much and thrown up right after.” Kevin started for the Impala and slumped against the side as if he was too tired to even manage the door. “Weird few months. I dreamt a lot.”

Dean wiped at his mouth. “The… tablet?”

Kevin blinked. “Safe. What do you think I did with it?” he asked defensively and Sam shook his head.

“We were worried, Kevin, that’s it.” Sam held the door open for him and it wasn’t until Dean had the car turned back around towards Lebannon that he leaned back to look at Kevin. “You said you were dreaming a lot?”

“Yeah. Weird dreams. Sort of like one of those weird art films. Light and shadows. Big balls of fire and then nothing.”

“Sounds like you got into more than just booze, Kev,” Dean said as he squinted through the windshield, the misty rain making it hard to see.

“No, those were my sober dreams,” Kevin answered. “The weirder ones was when I dreamed I was seeing some massive pairs of wings surrounding darkness. Not even sure what I meant.”

“Well. You can always ask Castiel,” Dean offered. “Nerdy angel might have some insight. Wings are his things.”


	8. Mercy  (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again under Castiel’s protection, Meg struggles with believing the impossible and the tension between them starts to build again as the Winchesters continue to try to close the Gates of Hell.

**Mercy**   ** _(When Demons Deny)  
_**

**Part 2  
**

**  
**It was like watching a caged wild thing stalk around. Meg paced angrily, ignored him mostly, and Castiel waited patiently. When he’d brought her extra blankets and a magazine Dean had lying around, she’d destroyed the pages and thrown the blankets back in his face. It had been childish but it seemed to make her feel better.

For a second.

Then she was back to ignoring him and pacing until even he felt tired watching her.

“You’re upset with me.”

“Oh, it could be that after months of being ‘free’, I find bars a little confining.” She caught him looking around. “Figurative bars, stupid.”

He bristled a little. “I am doing this to help you. Dean had asked for you to be kept confined until he came back. Once we figure out what is wrong with you…”

“Wrong with me?” She spun on her heel and came to the edge of the trap across from him. “Like what?”

“Well.” Castiel looked her over. “Your elevated heart rate for one is very odd for a demon, though your body temperature is…”

“Maybe I’m just all pitter-patter of you,” she said wearily.

“It’s not good for your vessel. It could mean that something is wrong,” he insisted and she glared at him.

“The only thing wrong here? Is that you keep forgetting that I’m a demon who doesn’t need saving and if you had remembered that in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this nightmare!” Her words nearly crackled in the air with her anger.

The silence between them was deafening, and it made his sudden grab of her arm the more startling when he wrenched her towards him, stepping into the trap.

“I have not forgotten. In all the years we’ve known each other, I have not forgotten what you are,” Castiel snapped. “A demon. But I didn’t  forget, I just saw something else there.”

For some reason that stung far worse than it should have and she swung her fist out, catching him on the jaw. This time it seemed to have some effect and he actually lifted his hand to his cheek, staring at her. Cursing his thick skull, Meg cradled her hand close and shaking it out angrily.

“Meg…”

“Let me guess.” She waved her uninjured hand in the air. “You think that a one time ride would mean anything to me?”

He caught the reference easily. “No.”

“Or that I actually care about you?” Meg stepped into him and glared. “Dream on.”

Castiel only looked at her, as if he could see right through her. “You’re trying to make me angry.”

“Is it working?”

“A little. I am just… frustrated by you, Meg.” He shook his head and looked at the low ceiling. “Which is hardly unusual.”

“So?”

“You said it was one time.” He blinked, wondering why she’d brought up that night just under two months ago. “I don’t think it was. You asked me to give you what you wanted. So why did you want me?”

She snorted and looked away. “Don’t fluff up your ego, feathers.”

“Tell me the truth.” Castiel reached out and touched her injured shoulder. “Why did you run?”

“I would really rather just die than deal with you trying to Ricki Lake me.”

He only managed to give her a puzzled look before she went to hit him again. He dodged the blow and stepped around her. He kept his hands out to the side, trying to keep her from attacking, but she did it anyway. Her charge was blind, angry and desperate, and not sure what else to do, he grasped her by her shoulders. When he glimpsed her expression, he saw something blank there that reminded him of months ago.

“Meg. Don’t.”

She grabbed hold of his coat and hauled him close, looking tiny compared to him, and he stared down at her. He remembered how he’d glimpse the fractions of an old Meg back then, when she’d torn into him to seek comfort and he wondered if he needed that comfort for himself.

Aware of close he was to failure with her.

It wasn’t clear what changed the tension simmering in the air. Meg’s fingers kept tightening in his coat, her eyes black and angry at being snared, but he only looked her over and tried not to stare too deeply, afraid of what he might see in her. But before he could let her go, her leg swept his from underneath him, pressing on his knee cap so hard the joint gave out. When he rolled them over and felt her legs anchor around his hips, he  could only stall and keep her down by pressure. Meg stared back at him and he realized she was trying to repel him.

“This doesn’t solve anything, Meg,” he muttered, his coat sliding around them. “It didn’t last time.”

She smirked evilly. “We should fight and end it. See if you can just smite me finally.”

“No.”

Her eyes widened a little at that mutter and he bent his head and kissed her. Determined to show her something, not sure what that was but it didn’t matter.

Before it had been Meg’s seduction, her need that had fed into his own that he kept buried. The want to touch and be touched had been foreign but he had let it go because he’d enjoyed it. It wasn’t an easy memory to forget.

This time it was Castiel who kept her hooked against him, fingers burying in her hair and body pinning hers down. There was no struggle underneath him, something that would have put him off, but instead she grasped handfuls of his hair and yanked to bring him closer.

The scrambling turned to grasping as her fingers buried underneath his dress shirt and dragged down sharply, as if marking him for herself and he sank his teeth into her lower lip.

It was addicting, the feel of skin sliding over skin, playful bite-marks being left and sinewy heat curving itself around him when they finally managed to get his coat and her shirt off. The cold of the cement and the painful impact it made on his knees when he lifted her up against his hips didn’t register; his focus was solely on her. Her skin burned against his tongue and he heard her muttering in his ear dark words with no real meaning. To keep her quiet, he kissed her again.

Their first time had been slow by comparison. Firmly sure of what he could do, Castiel trapped her hands over her head and broke the kiss. He heard her cursing him as he dropped his head and raked his teeth over her collarbone, tasting sweat and sweetness. Her legs twisted within his and he felt time slow a little around them as she relaxed underneath him.

She nearly growled against his arm, nipping and sucking at his skin impatiently. “Too slow,” she muttered and he shuddered as her foot moved up his calf, body arching when he bit too hard.

“I know.”

_This is stupid. You are willing to lose yourself again for the sake of a demon._

Something in the almost desperate way she grasped at the back of his shirt pushed that thought away and he lifted himself to kiss her deeply to keep it quiet.

He’d chosen what he needed. He knew he had.

* * *

 

Sheol watched them from her place in the shadows. Someone watching might have considered a morbid beauty in what they were doing. An angel who should show no such emotion enjoyed being with a demon. No amount of compulsion from her by planting doubts in his head had worked. He wanted her.

And Meg?

The demon was a bit mysterious about why she was doing this.

She watched for several more minutes as they continued to be too engrossed in each other to notice her, knowing that she should stop them but unable to bring herself to. She sensed, though Meg would likely never admit it, that Castiel brought her some form of peace and she could allow that for now.

It wouldn’t be long anyway.

When she saw the reverent way the angel touched the demon, she almost had a moment of remorse. But it was buried down, far beneath her anger that she had misjudged both creatures and that Chuck had toyed with her already very dangerous pawn.

Stretching out her awareness over the surface of the Earth and into the heat of Hell, she turned away and stepped out of the room. She moved through reality and into a factory in South America that smelt of acidic chemicals and blood. It looked as if what few humans had been here had been slaughtered for ritual. Ignoring the urge to destroy it all, she simply walked around the empty vats and waited for someone to see her.

The few demons guarding the catwalks turned at her soft foot fall as she let herself become visible and one raised his hand to stop her, power flexing through the air.

With a slow look into his black eyes, Sheol smiled.

“Don’t.” He dropped his hand, slack-jawed from the sheer power she radiated, and she thought he was about to smoke out. “Take me to Crowley and I won’t destroy you right now.”

* * *

 

Chuck twisted in his unconsciousness, struggling to pull free. His computer with its unsaved worked beeped loudly, threatening a shutdown, but he couldn’t pull himself free. 

“Sheol,” he groaned and the man standing at his feet shook his head and waited for him to wake up properly.

* * *

 

Meg moaned and lifted in his arms and Castiel gently sank his teeth into her neck, shuddering as her fingers tightened on the edges of his shoulder blades. It was as if in this form she could feel his wings and the pleasure of the touch burned as her fingers slid down the small of his back. He could feel her wrapping herself around him and with a groan he succumbed to the idea of letting her find something in him as much as he was trying to find something in her. Turning his head, he kissed her and willed for the dark thoughts that had been consuming him about her to leave.

* * *

 

Sheol smirked at Crowley as she stepped into the low-lit room and he swivelled his chair around.

“Well, hello, legs.” He stood up and tilted his head. “I don’t think we’ve met. You’re a… pagan god, perhaps?”

“We haven’t met.” She crossed her arms before her and smiled. “You would remember.”

“You look familiar though.” He tapped at his jaw. “Almost remind me of a certain demon in a meatsuit… Meg. You know her?”

Nothing in her gave anything away. “I came to discuss a deal with you. Nothing more than that.”

“Well, let me have it. I always like adding a new soul to the collection,” Crowley offered, sitting on his desk. She watched him pull a shining blade out and recognized it as one of those piddly angel swords. He was threatening her. This was amusing and she bit back the urge to show him what he was trifling with.

“Hardly that.” Stepping forward, she looked at the demon bodyguards staggered around the room.

“Well then, you have little interest for me.”

With a sort of empty-minded bravado, he slammed it into her chest with a mere twist of his arm. Sheol merely frowned and glanced down as if to say “That’s it?”

Crowley backed off as she slid the sword out of her heart and handed it back to him.

“Please don’t do that again.”

“Worth a shot. So. You aren’t a demon, you aren’t an angel, or even one of those pagan gods.”

“What I am isn’t as important as what I need you to do for me. The demon that you killed months ago, that returned? The one you call Meg still. I can show you how to summon her, draw her out, and I want you to take something from her.”

“Please say it’s her entrails,” Crowley was overly eager and Sheol nearly wrinkled her nose in disgust. She watched him circle around her, knowing he was trying to read her.

“A child.”

That stunned him enough that he paused in front of her. “A what?”

“She carries something that is going to be very important in your destruction if you let it live.”

Crowley took a moment to digest that information, his expression fascinated and disgusted. “Meg got herself knocked up. Interesting. I forgot that could happen because it really shouldn’t,” he muttered. “And why, exactly, would you, who I don’t know, come to me with this tidbit of information?”

He turned to look at her and he froze when their eyes locked. With a few small steps, she put herself in front of him and cupped his cheek. She let pieces of her true nature shine through and saw the slow dawn of realization go over him. With those tiny fractions of power drifting around them, she let a comfort slide through. The light was almost invisible to the naked eye but it swarmed around him. Comforted him, promised him whatever he felt like he wanted. His eyes shut half-way as he relaxed.

“I need you to rip it out of her.”

“You didn’t say please,” he pointed out and she merely rolled her eyes.

“Do not think you are at my level, child. I can give you what you think you need. Much more than you know.”

Her fingers caressed his cheek.

He recovered as fast as he had from trying to kill her. “So, I get to kill the bitch? Sounds fun.”

Sheol stared him down. “No. You are to leave her alive.”

“No dice, love. I want to rip her apart too.”

He barely got it out before her hand wrapped around his throat and she hauled him close. Though he didn’t need the air, he felt searing agony ripping through him that he hadn’t felt in years.

“If you hurt her beyond necessity, I will make you suffer in ways that you cannot imagine. Trust me on that.”

“Why should I help you?” he choked out and she smiled.

“Because I can save you from this rotten existence, child. It’s a short step from Meg birthing your enemy to it killing you, do you understand? I need her unburdened by such an abomination.”

Crowley stared into her eyes and felt for the first time since Lucifer a very real fear that he was out of his depth.

* * *

 

Meg turned over in her cot, head pillowed by her arm, and Castiel watched her from where he sat on the edge. Wrapped up in a spare blanket, she had been quiet ever since they’d pushed away from each other. Demons didn’t need sleep but she was dozing deeply, drifting in that half-way state between unconscious and dreaming. He heard her muttering about water and fire, something strange about an oblivion, and he felt her pain radiating off of her.

Reaching out, he pushed her hair away from her forehead and his fingers drifted down over her skin. He could feel her pulse still beating fast, felt the swollen, full ridges of her breasts, and he checked the scar tissue from the stab wound . He slid his hand over her hip in a slow movement to try to comfort her against the dreams and she shifted into the touch, eyes opening.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Meg didn’t answer.

His fingers smoothed down the curve of her back and over the ridge of her hip, tracking muscle and pushing against bone. Her skin was cold to touch and unable to stop he slid his hand over her belly. Meg still stared at the wall closest to them and he shifted on the bed beside her, propped up against the bed-frame. Unconsciously, she backed into him, her hip pressed into his leg, and he stared at the back of her head as he rested his fingers on her hipbone.

* * *

 

_He’d been dreaming of a squalling child being cut out of its mother and thrown to the side. Mocking laughter in his ears and then a sensation of searing heat that burned him to his core._

_All he wanted to do was scream at how unfair it was and he couldn’t._

When Chuck came to again he was in his bed, an ice pack on his head and a glass of orange juice on his night-table. Greedily, he groped for it and drank it down before he remembered that he didn’t have orange juice in the house. 

“Good, you’re awake.” That familiar voice jarred him upright and he regretted it instantly, his headache spiking. “I’m afraid she dealt you quite the blow.”

Death sat on a chair beside his bed.

“I’m afraid we must talk, Chuck. I don’t think you realize exactly what it is you’ve done.” 

“Give me just a second,” Chuck answered and he sagged back on the pillows. Death cleared his throat.

“Contrary to your penchant for procrastination, we do not have ‘a second.’ Your problem is very much happening now. So wake up.” Reaching out, he slammed the butt of his cane on Chuck’s forehead and the spark of pain brought him sitting upright, swearing loudly. Death merely waited. “If you are finished?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, you might say it is because of Hell I am here. Your decision to rework the ending to your story. It has made her very angry and yet you’ve done nothing that I can see that will change the course of the future,” Death commented and Chuck rubbed at the bright red spot on his forehead.

“Yeah? Well, it seemed to be working just fine. What’s the worse this ‘she’ is going to do? Throw a hissy fit?” He swung his feet to the floor and stood up, walking over to his computer.

“You do realize Sheol is prepared to burn the entirety of creation to the ground, correct?” Death asked and Chuck stopped mid-stride before shrugging.

“That sounds… violent.” 

“It would be. The moment the Gates of Hell close, she claims her final reward for rather infinite patience with your experiment.”

“My what?” Chuck shook his head. “Nah, that’s impossible, I created an out.” To show him, he flipped open his laptop and booted it up. “This is Sam and Dean’s big finish, their reason for surviving is to bring balance back and Castiel can serve his…”

Chuck gaped as the corrupted file refused to open. What it meant wasn’t clear but he felt a sudden sense of dread make his stomach turn over.

“I think you’ll find that you need to hurry up as she is already moving one of her pawns against you.” Death rubbed his ring thoughtfully. “The demon Crowley, who you have used as well, is about to be even more of a pawn than we thought. Against your newest… creation.”

Chuck whipped around to face him but Death was gone, leaving him with only a new blank document on his screen.

* * *

 

Kevin was stunned when he came into the kitchen and saw Meg standing in front of the fridge with Castiel reading a book just behind her. He’d known she was there, though Dean said they’d locked her up, and after the first deep sleep he had in weeks, it was a surprise to see her wandering around.

“Meg… hi.”

“What up, shorty?” She muttered, snatching a piece of pie from the fridge. Both Kevin and Castiel went to warn her that it was going to set Dean off but she was already headed for the common room. The prophet eyed the angel who looked puzzled enough before he sighed.

“Dean and Sam?”

“Somewhere in the stacks, looking for stuff on this last trial I’m figuring out.” 

Of course Castiel disappeared on him and unable to help his own hunger pangs, Kevin set about cooking his first real meal in days.

He was hungry until he heard retching in the room next to him.

Meg shuddered and gasped for breath. Since the Winchesters had returned with the prophet and Castiel had let her out of her cell, she’d felt strangely reenergized and hungry. Getting him to leave her alone had been hard enough and she’d been grateful for just a few minutes.  But now the food settled badly inside her and she ached from the force of her dry-heaving.

_Goddamn it, what is wrong with me?_ she thought and she pushed her sweated hair out of her face.

“Meg?” Kevin called out. “You okay?”

Staring at the half-eaten food, she remembered the few things she knew about prophets. Kevin’s shaky voice brought it all back. He could see things, hopefully. Read the tablets for sure but maybe he could actually know if this was some sick joke on God’s part. Maybe she was just crazy, over-reacting…

She staggered back into the kitchen to find him standing at the stove, a carton of eggs in one hand and a frying pan in the other. Something about the look in her eyes made him back up a step as she grabbed hold of the counter.

“Uh… you okay?”

“Peachy. You still getting the God vibes?” she demanded and he nodded. “Good. So you can tell me if I look different.”

“Well, you were sadder last time I saw you so you look…” Kevin winced. “Back to your usual “nice” self.”

“Cute. But do I look different?”

The prophet looked her up and down casually, setting down the eggs on the counter. “Well…”

“I swear to Hell if you stall anymore I’m going to beat you to death with your own spine.”

“Yeah, you look different.” Kevin blinked and looked at her a bit more closely. “I can tell. You’re pregnant. It is like a tiny ball of grey light in your stomach.”

Meg started. “How can you tell that and Castiel can’t?”

“Prophet thing maybe? Though I didn’t really see this coming,” Kevin explained. “Is… It’s Castiel’s isn’t it?” When she didn’t say anything, he gestured. “Just the likeliest thing I could think of. Can that even happen between demons and angels?”

She stared at him, holding that ridiculous frying pan. All at once the sheer panic spilled out from her. “What am I going to do? What should I do? You’re human, you’re a fucking prophet, what do I do?”

Kevin nervously licked his lips. “… I was just going to make some scrambled eggs. I… I haven’t eaten in days.”

Meg only stared at him and realized that the one person who could tell her why the hell this had been done this to her was too broken to help. He looked as worn out as she felt and just as useful. Swallowing down the urge to snap his neck, she quietly retreated and, aware of his pitying gaze, she made her way back to her cell.

* * *

 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped when Castiel appeared next to him but managed to play it off coolly. “Well… how did last night with the prisoner go?”

“I was busy. Meg was not very happy with her enforced confinement.”

“Yeah I bet. Did you chain her down?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

Sitting across from them, Sam blinked at the slight sign of a smirk on Castiel’s face.

“She’s different though.” Castiel shook his head and stared at the table. “I can tell.”

“Not any less bitchy that’s for sure.” Dean slapped his book shut. “Look, maybe she’s just getting better, you know? Like… magic happens and poof! Meg is back to her good old evil demon self.”

“She’s very self-protective. More than normal,” Castiel muttered to himself, staring thoughtfully at the table even when Dean stood up and went to re-shelve his book. Sam closed his book, made sure Dean was far enough away, and looked intently at his friend.

“Cas? What are you actually seeing?” The angel shrugged.

“She’s been acting… odd. More so than usual. She’s exhausted, experiencing nausea, her breasts seem to have swelled slightly and blood volume has increased slightly.” He sighed, actually afraid. “I fear she may become quite ill.”

Sam registered it all and remembered that night two months ago. Nervously he looked down. Clearing his throat, he waited until Castiel looked at him again.

“Cas… you, I mean that sounds more like, uh, like she’s, y’know - pregnant.”

The angel stared at him. “That would be impossible.”

“Would it? I saw you together, Cas, and, as far as I know, you’re the only one that gets that close to her in the first place.”

Castiel actually blushed. “I’m sorry. They have been moments of weakness.”

“Sure it was.” Sam blinked at the angel’s use of plural. “Cas. It really does sound that way. I mean, I haven’t experienced it personally but I know textbook cases and you might want to be sure about it.”

“It is impossible though,” Castiel insisted. “I know it is.”

“Yeah and you thought when angels died they didn’t get to come back but you’re living proof of that,” Sam pointed out. “Maybe there’s something in these books or maybe she really is just sick. Unless you’d just rather confront her yourself.”

Castiel shook his head. “I think some time spent away from Meg might be an excellent plan. She has a way of distorting things for me. I’ll feel it if something goes wrong here.”

Sam decided not to point out what that could mean.

* * *

 

She made it halfway to her cell when she felt something shift in the air around her. The pull was strong, making every tiny hair on her meatsuit stand up and her eyes flicked to black once she recognized it as a summoning. The invisible wards that decorated the bunker throbbed in time with her own heartbeat, bending reality around her as it tried to prevent the invasion. Demonic soul struggling against the pull, Meg staggered against the wall and held onto the shelf nearest her.

It was too strong and no matter how much power she used against it, the summoning was drawing at her very nature.

Bathing her in a foreign warmth that reminded her of Lethe.

Then something snapped, like a band pulled too tight, and she blinked out. Her soul went hurtling through reality like a comet to the source calling for her.

* * *

 

Chuck hurriedly searched for his notes. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. He had made Meg safe, he knew he had. She was needed for a little longer, just until everything could be sorted out. Until his plans were more concrete.

“Where did I put you?” he demanded and he looked up at the screen that was still nothing more than a blank document.

A searing vision went through him and he lowered his head and cried out as a new headache flared. Blindly, he reached out for a pen and notebook and without seeing the words he began to write furiously .

* * *

 

As if someone had struck him, Castiel straightened up abruptly beside Sam in the occult section of the archives. Staring sightlessly ahead, he didn’t notice Sam waving his hand in front of his eyes. He was lost in that sensation that something had come into the bunker that was not friendly. Something dangerous.

“Meg,” he muttered and before Sam could question him he was searching through the halls. Trying to keep track, Sam could only stare as the angel began blinking in and out of the connecting halls so fast that he couldn’t keep up. Calling out for Dean, though he would be too deep in the shelves to hear him, he ran after Castiel. It was even harder to find him as Castiel went top to bottom of the bunker, looking for Meg, until they came to Meg’s cell.

There was no sign of her being there and Castiel spun a fast circle, looking around as if she was just going to appear from the walls.

“She’s gone.”

He flashed out again and Sam panted for breath, giving up on being able to pace him.

“Jesus, Castiel, stop scaring me like that!” Kevin shouted nearby and Sam followed the shout to find the angel looming over the prophet just outside the cell.

“Where is she?”

“Meg? She was here a minute ago,” Kevin explained. “She had some questions. I just don’t think she liked my answers.”

“Questions about what?” Sam asked for Castiel as he stalked around the hall, running a hand over one of the walls. Kevin’s hesitation only goaded Castiel’s frustration and they both jumped when he repeated Sam’s question in a quiet voice.

“She… well.” Kevin winced as he spoke because he knew this wasn’t going to go well. “She’s pregnant. I could see it. Couldn’t you?”

Castiel stared at the prophet. “What do you mean you’ve seen it?”

“Not like a vision but I can just tell. Kind of like the tablet, you know? I can look at Meg and “see” what is there. It was blurry and not normal but it’s there…”

Sam swallowed at the murderous expression on Castiel’s face. “Cas, man, you need to calm down.”

The angel began to pace to work off his anger. “Why is she doing this? This running?”

“She likes to lie low? Maybe she panicked.”

“No, that’s not it. Something is wrong, I can feel it.”

* * *

 

She landed on her knees in an old graveyard, spitting up blood and bile as her body reacted from the force of the summoning. She couldn’t remember a summoning that violent or strong before and the power behind the whirlwind of it had nearly ripped her free from her meatsuit. Digging her fingers into the dirt, she glanced around her and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

The hole she’d landed in was deep enough to be a pit for an animal. Or enough to slow down a demon, she thought, and she had to blink to get rid of the spirals in her vision.

“Oh, now this is a familiar position for you, isn’t it, whore?”

Meg stared at the finely polished shoes just inches from the lip of the hole. “How did you find me?”

“Let’s just say I have some deals working in very high places, apparently. A sort of ‘goodwill transaction, that sort of wonderful thing.” Crowley stood before her with another angel sword dangling from his fingers. “You look rather rough, love. You might want to consider another makeover.”

Meg spat out another mouthful of blood and stood up.

“I’d love to give you one.” She tilted her head and looked him up and down. “Maybe a good throat slashing?”

“Oh, I love when you talk all rough, Meg. Really. Almost makes me forget that you are actually at my mercy.”

“You shouldn’t have been able to find me,” she whispered. That was one thing about the bunker she knew. It was almost impenetrable by magic, the Winchesters had boasted.

“Yet here we are.”

“What? Want another hand to hand fight?” she asked. “I’m not as weak as I was back then.”

“Yes, I know.” He snapped and out of the shadows several demons walked, varying ages and sizes that she could tell. “Which is why they are going to soften you up for me.”

He turned to one of the largest demons. “Don’t kill her. Just make meat tenderizer out of that pretty face.”

Meg squared her shoulders and braced herself as the first of the demons jumped into the pit with her.

* * *

 

Chuck whimpered as he wrote faster and faster, aware of the pen almost ripping the paper with the speed of his hand. The story actually played out before his eyes like a distorted film and his eyes began to tear from the power it was taking him to keep focussed. His fingers screamed with pain as he tossed page after page onto the ground until the floor was littered in white pages covered in black ink. 

Still it wasn’t enough.

Behind him, he could hear a soft breathing and that smell of woman and ozone that meant he was no longer alone.

_“It will be better if you just let it happen. There is nothing to save your creation,”_ she murmured. Chuck stared through sweat and tears at the pages he had scribbled on.

“There is,” he whispered and he began to write with new focus.

* * *

 

“Oh, darling. That was worth the wait,” Crowley murmured as he turned a slow circle. “Let it not be said that you don’t fight when you need to. Nearly made me tingle to watch.”

Meg may have been weak the last time they’d fought but there was little sign of it now. She’d been able to turn the weapons of the demons against them and the King of Hell had watched several of his best fall under their own blades. Beheaded and still-twitching bodies lay around her in the grave and she had to step over them to get towards Crowley.

“Come on, Crowley,” she said between gulping breaths, swivelling a stolen machete around in her hand. Every muscle burned from the multitude of cuts and bruises decorating her body. “You thought they would finish me off?”

“No.” He snapped his fingers at the remaining demons who backed away from her. “Just wear you down a little.”

The growling of a hellhound made her close her eyes just before she was tackled from behind.

* * *

 

“What the hell is going on?”

Sam turned to see Dean standing overhead. Castiel had gathered his supplies fast and was busy clearing off a section in the common room. Kevin stood nearby, too petrified to move. “He’s… uh…”

“I’m summoning Meg. I refrained from doing so before because it would have caused her too much pain.” Castiel was drawing on the floor fast. “I can’t feel her anywhere.”

“Feel what now? Why is he summoning?” Dean asked. “She ran off again?”

“I don’t know,” the angel snapped, agitation making his voice gruffer than normal. He grabbed the small bundle of herbs from Kevin’s numb fingers. “I’m just…”

Before he could throw them down into the bowl, a flash of light filled the room, as brilliant as any sigil banishing, and he was gone.

* * *

 

“Call me cliché,” Chuck muttered. “But what good is all this if it ends now, before the good part?”

Behind him, the figure in window shifted impatiently. _“What are you doing?”_

“Writing in an out. I’m good at those.” Chuck grinned and grabbed a new page to scribble on.

* * *

 

“Now you see, this should be familiar, Meg,” Crowley said flippantly as he dragged the angel sword up her side. He rested the tip just above her solar plexus. “Remember? The way it went in so easily last time?”

The demon twitched under the pressure of the blade as it began to pierce through her jacket. After the hellhound’s tackle, the demons had made sure she wasn’t going to fight back by knocking her around the graveyard for a few minutes. Her one eye was blood-red and swollen, the other still black and watching him carefully. Strapped down, she could only move so far but she still strained to grab at him. “Only you would have a torture table in the middle of a family tomb, you pompous son of a bitch.”

“What? Sometimes tradition is an excellent thing to have,” he pointed out, offended. The few remaining demons were staggered around the old mausoleum while outside a hellhound still stalked the cemetery. The King of Hell moved away and dusted off one of the skulls casually. “Remind you of home? Worms and all that?”

“Something like that.” She squirmed as the other demon at the table  delicately began to cut through her shirt. “Come on, knife me and get it over with.”

“Oh, come on, Meg. That would be too easy and really where is your sense of maternal protectiveness?” There was no mistaking the way the tension ripped through her body and made her stiff, and he smirked. “So it is true. You need to work on your poker face again.”

“How do you know?”

“Little birdie told me. Whatever little time bomb you’re carrying in there… it is worth a lot to someone. Dead rather than alive.” Crowley came back around and leaned over her. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you to use protection?”

“Only when dealing with small dicks like yours,” Meg hissed in his face and he gave her a smirk before slapping her hard across the mouth.

“Should cut your tongue out but where would the fun be in you screaming without it?” He waved the other demon away and began to weave his sword between her still covered breasts, to the cut cloth over her abdomen. “The theory is that this?” He lifted the angel sword up. “Can do damage on any creature alive. So whatever is in there is probably not going to like getting dug out. Never done this before so scream if I’m getting close.”

Meg rolled her eyes back to block out the slow tearing sensation on her skin and yanked at the bindings on her arms futilely. Crowley hummed as he slowly began to press the blade into her flesh just above her pelvis. He barely carved a tiny fraction before Meg’s body bowed and she howled in agony. That made him grin and he nodded pleasantly.

“Perfect. Just the right spot.”

He tilted the knife, ready to stab downward to the warmth he could suddenly feel exuding from her, when he heard screeching outside. His hellhound, one of the biggest he had, was in a death throe. Looking up across Meg’s twisting ribcage, he snapped his fingers at the two demons guarding them. “You two, go see what it is.”

He bent his head down to work but the surprised grunts of the two demons made him look up again.

Castiel slammed the two demons into the closest pillars, his hands over their faces as he scorched them with light and they howled under his grip. With the sort of carelessness only an angel could have, he tossed them down and straightened up. As the door swung shut behind him, Crowley could see the bodies of his other guards littering the cemetery dirt.

“Knew I should have had them draw the wards faster,” he hissed. 

Castiel’s face was a stony mask, reminding him of the time when he’d been a God, and Crowley pasted a smarmy grin on his face.

“Castiel. Nice to see you back in form.”

The angel took a few steps in down the steps and his angel sword slid from its holster into his hand. “Leave her be.”

“Who? Her?” Crowley nudged her exposed side with his sword and she twisted to get away from the blade. The bloody cuts he’d started to make were not deep enough to do damage but enough that every twist made them bleed while she struggled to heal. Crowley looked down at her. “Be with you in a second, love.”

“I won’t say it again.” Castiel took a few more steps and Crowley lifted the sword, pointing it down. 

“Ah ah. Wouldn’t want my hand to drop would you?” he threatened. Castiel spared a glance to Meg’s face and saw her eyes were on the cuffs of the table, her fingers working fast to try to squeeze out of them. The wards were demonic but not angelic and he kept his eyes on Crowley as he slowly twisted his fingers in a circle, half of his attention on the locks.

“Leave. Her. Be.”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley slammed the sword down hard.

* * *

 

Chuck gasped for breath and, far below in the bunker, Kevin threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, shouting for it to stop. The sound ricocheted and Dean and Sam stared in confusion as the building shook from the force of the call.

* * *

 

Rolling out of the way, Meg slammed her elbow into Crowley’s nose, one wrist now free from the cuffs and letting her get to the side.  She felt the delicate cartilage and bone break under the force of the blow, and he shouted a curse, swiping at her. His fist caught her on her cheek and sent her over the other side of the table. His blade still vibrated from the force of his downward blow and he struggled to free it from the metal table.

Castiel was on Crowley before the demon could follow through, grabbing him by his black coat and throwing him up against the opposing pillar. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that Meg was mostly unhurt from the force of the blow and he turned his attention on the King of Hell.

He’d been thrown here by some unknown force, fought blindly with a sheer sense of purpose, and seeing Meg strapped down had only increased that sense of righteous wrath he hadn’t felt since saving Kevin the first time. There wasn’t time to question it. Any of it.

Not even the moment he’d stepped into the crypt when he had felt more than just Meg’s agony.

He had felt someone else’s.

Crowley recovered fast, dusting himself off from the crypt’s dust.

“Always hard up for that whore of a demon, eh, Castiel?” He cracked his neck and looked at where Meg was struggling to free her other hand. The wounds were are already starting to heal. “Do you know what it is you’re saving?”

He tried to circle towards her but Castiel blocked him with a side-step.

“What exactly the traitor is carrying? Inside that little broken meatsuit of hers?”

“I know.” Castiel hadn’t been willing to accept it before when it was just a theory. But he knew what he’d felt and he believed it now. He’d felt it as if it was a part of his own Grace. Rather than focus on it and risk it costing him, he simply stared at Crowley. “She’s pregnant.”

Both demons stared at him in surprise, though Meg’s expression was less panicky than Crowley’s.

“Doesn’t concern you that she’s likely carrying a walking disaster? Maybe a new AntiChrist? Destined to destroy the Heavens?” he tried and the angel blinked slowly.

“No. The child would have to be Cambion for that.” There was no mistaking what he’d felt was nothing close to human.

“But…” Crowley looked between angel and demon and nearly choked on his own surprise at the look he saw Meg giving Castiel. The fact that Castiel had been here so fast to save her made Crowley realize that he’d been wrong about one thing. “You have to be kidding me.” 

It wasn’t hard to figure out.

“You let… him… knock you up?” he demanded of Meg. “On one hand, that’s disgusting. On the other hand, way to aim, Castiel.”

Meg rolled her eyes and dug her nails into the cuff to try to loosen it.

“Well, this calls for a whole new type of abomination, don’t you think? Have to think up a decent nick name.”

Castiel stared at him. “How did you find her?”

“Wasn’t hard. I’ll do it again if I have to.” Before he could finish what was going to be another sharp quip, Castiel was on him again, throwing him up against the pillar.

“I won’t ask again.”

“I was told what to do and given some very powerful drops of blood.  One time only deal, as well.” Crowley almost choked as the angel leaned on him with his arm across his throat. “I didn’t know her but I know what she was.”

Meg stared, the cuff forgotten.

“She offered me whatever I wanted in exchange for that little thing.” Crowley’s eyes went to the side. “Haven’t felt that sort of peace in a very long time.”

Confused by near serenity the demon seemed to be feeling, Castiel loosened his hold a little.

“You haven’t the foggiest idea what that thing means, do you?” Crowley demanded, trying to push Castiel off. “For all of us?”

The angel glanced over his shoulder at Meg and caught her cagey expression before looking back at Crowley. The demon king’s eyes were red with fury.

“What do you think will happen? White picket fence? A Volvo and a chocolate lab? With that bitch?”

“Gross,” Meg muttered though neither heard her.

“Hell, Castiel, for all you know your little whore is going to eat her own young! After it ends us all!” Crowley yelled and without thought Castiel swung his hand out and punched him. It sent him sprawling to the floor and Castiel stared down at him in disgust.

“What do you know, Crowley?”

Gingerly touching his bleeding mouth, Crowley fixed him with an impatient look as he stood up again.

“Only that you should kill the bitch before you get too used to the idea of the nuclear bomb she’s carrying. Or let me do it for you.”

Castiel’s hand tightened into a fist, his eyes almost glowing as light started to seethe through him. Crowley saw the threat and he looked at Meg. Blowing her a kiss, he blinked out before Castiel could reach him.

The room went from hot to ice-cold without the King of Hell’s presence and Meg sighed, turning her head to stare at the cuff. Her bruised fingers were useless enough and she tugged hard with her wrist instead. Her belly ached and she was aware that the fear she had felt wasn’t been the sort she’d known before.

Strong fingers curved over her wrist and held her steady as Castiel undid the cuff for her. Staring at his tie, Meg nervously licked her lower lip and tasted the blood still there from Crowley’s blow. The angel said nothing while he backed up to give her room to stand. 

The room swam in her vision and groaning she held onto the table to give her some balance. Her stomach wounds had drenched her sliced shirt and the smell of decay and sulphur rich blood was disgusting . She staggered around the table and finally had to stop when she nearly stumbled over one of the bodies on the floor.

Castiel stood behind her.

“Going to yell at me anytime soon?” Meg asked dryly, eyes crossing as she focussed on a puddle of blood. Likely hers.

“No.” He was only staring at her when she turned around. “I think we need to be some place safer before it comes to that.”

“What? Back to the bunker again?” She wiped the blood from her split lip before reaching up to push her hair out of her eyes. “Boys are going to be sick of me popping in and out like a drunk aunt.”

“No. We need to talk before they become involved.”

When she looked up, he was in front of her and before she could protest he pressed his hand to her forehead. The rush of power made her close her eyes and reach out blindly to grab hold of his arm but for once he didn’t take her hand.

When she opened her eyes to a familiar setting, she stepped back from Castiel’s touch. Even from the outside, Rufus’ cabin was the same as she remembered it. Smelling of pine and old junk, it was familiar and still it seemed quiet . Though she could feel the wards struggling to repel her, Castiel’s presence seemed to ease the pressure from them.

“I’d say thanks but…” she gingerly touched her exposed belly. “Hard to when I doubt you’ll think I’m honest about it.”

She moved only a few steps when Castiel had hold of her arm and was pulling her around, almost crunching her into the front door. The darkness outside made him look impossibly tall and looming and she stared up in fascination at the odd mix of emotions on his face. Something had broken through his usual calm and she watched him lift his other hand. 

There was no hiding the instinctive flinch she had to give when he pressed it to her forehead.

Heat moved over her skin and her headache slowly left, the swelling around her blood-red eye disappearing though it still hurt to blink. The hand drifted down her face and over her neck, pausing on her breast to feel her heart pounding in its cage. Meg stared into his eyes until he looked away and down. His fingers pressed a little harder as he dragged them down the valley of her breasts, over her flat stomach, to just above the waist of her jeans.

The sensation of something actually flaring inside her, like a match being lit, had her biting back a moan of surprise as his fingers curved over her stomach. It burned and it felt like he was trying to search her meatsuit for something and she shut her eyes to keep the mixture of pleasure, pain, and surprise from showing. Castiel kept his eyes on her exposed skin and stared at the bloody marks before he moved closer against her. 

He swallowed nervously as he pressed his palm against her stomach.

Something shifted under his hand, a small fraction of light that responded to his Grace.

“I can feel it now. Inside of you.”

His voice was rough and barely contained.

   Meg opened her eyes to see an almost flat look on his face, one that was inscrutable as his gaze drifted over her face. Something in that look made her press back against the door. His hand stayed on her stomach and felt the spark just underneath his palm.

“We need to talk.”


	9. Illuminated (When Demons Reveal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel struggles to understand what he is meant to do, not realizing how deep manipulations of God and Oblivion have become. Frustrated and restless, Meg turns to Dean and Sam to help her locate an unlikely source of guidance.

_**[MEME Prompt](http://demonofdiscord.tumblr.com/post/49376539323/whats-goin-on-in-that-noggin-of-yours-this):**   
_

** Illuminated (When Demons Reveal) **

** Part 1  
**

“ _Damn it, Cas, what the hell is going on?”_

“I’ll be in touch.”

Castiel pressed the end button on his phone and stared at the now blank screen for a long time. Dean had been frantic since his sudden disappearance, and instead of telling him where he was, Castiel just told him he was safe. That _they_ were safe for now.

Dean hadn’t taken that as well as he’d hoped but it was all he could say for now. 

Tucking the phone back in his pocket, he walked slowly through Rufus’ cabin until he came to the spare room. She’d gone to try to wash her clothing, said that she couldn’t stand the feel of blood crusted material on her since her stolen clothes were ruined by the crypt and the impromptu torture. He heard her talking to herself, a habit she’d picked up since she’d been resurrected.

      Meg’s pale back, striped with bloodstains and framed by her long hair, made him stop in the doorway and stare. It was hard not to watch how her muscles curved down to the splay of her hips, notice the fragile jutting of her spine when she bent over and washed blood from her wounded shoulder, or see the bruising from her earlier fight that flowered on her pale skin.

It made him irrationally angry to see it.

Giving the wards one last glance, he cleared his throat and watched as she reached over and snagged an old flannel shirt from the coat rack. Though she seemed cold on the outside, the demon seemed to be seething under the surface and Castiel looked out the sigil painted window instead of at her.

“Are you in pain?”

“Define ‘pain’,” Meg muttered as she buttoned the shirt . “Ugh, I look like a Winchester. Next step is smelling like one.”

When she turned, Castiel was behind her, eyes on her now covered stomach. Reluctantly he dragged his eyes away. “Crowley cut deep. I saw the blood.”

“I’m fine. Stop hovering,” she ground out and went to shove by him but he grabbed her shoulder to keep her still. “Let me go, Clarence.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “I could have helped.”

“Because this whole mess?” She drew a circle on her stomach over the flannel. “Isn’t supposed to happen, remember? I thought I was delusional. I’m a demon. The body is just a taxi for me.”

“And my vessel isn’t much more than…”

She shoved him back so she could get into the living room. “Didn’t ask and don’t care.”

 The angel leaned back against a table and watched as she dropped onto the old couch. Meg ran a hand through her blood-stained hair and glanced over at him.

“What?”

He simply waited until the quiet made Meg roll her eyes irritably.

“Look, it was just a month ago that I started feeling a little less than normal. When did you figure it out?”

Castiel ran his finger over the dusty surface of the table. “I saw hints but Kevin was the one who finally told me. Then when I came to save you, I… felt it.” 

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was only the one time before you left and you…. I don’t understand why this would happen.” He was still trying think of a reasonable explanation or at least one that wouldn’t sound insane.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Yeah because that “one time” trope never gets old.”

Castiel stared at her.

“Stop looking at me like that. This wasn’t exactly something I planned. This sort of thing does not happen. Not between our kind. Ever.” 

He shook his head and turned around, looking at the familiar leftovers from the Winchesters. Old TV, blankets, magazines, books. He felt out of place here with just Meg and without either brother to stand by him. He wasn’t sure how conversations such as these should go and he ran his hand over his scruffy cheek as he began to walk from wall to wall.

“This is wrong,” he muttered. “Father, what is this?”

The desire to put his fist through the wall was a strong one.

“What’s goin’ on in that noggin of yours?” Meg shuffled on the couch to watch him pace, her head lolling on the back . Her eyes were half-closed because the longer she watched him the dizzier she became. 

“This… child. We don’t know what it means.” As if he couldn’t help himself, Castiel looked back at her stomach, fingers flexing as if he wanted to touch her. 

Oblivious, Meg drummed her fingers on the tattered cushion of the couch. “Fair enough.”

“It could be something very dangerous.”

“Well, I owe it my life regardless — even if you hadn’t gone all Wonder-boy on Crowley, can’t say I was expecting that.” Meg shuddered in memory. That had been a powerful kick that had helped her and Castiel get her arm free from the table. She’d felt his power trying to untie her arm, her own strength, but that had been something else that had broken it from the magicked metal. It’d been stronger than the wards that had kept her down.

“It fended off an angel blade. Not many things can do that, Meg. Certainly not demons.” He turned to pace the other way, coat swishing in the air around him.

“And?”

“It’s more powerful than either of us, Meg, how can that be?” He shook his head. Biologically that would be impossible. The whole thing was impossible. “It’s nothing that has existed before.”

Irrationally, she felt insulted by that. “Would you stop calling him or her an ‘it’ already? I thought I was supposed to be the emotionally detached one.”

Castiel blinked and stopped mid-stride to stare at her. “You’re attached to it?”

“He or she.” Meg crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “And no, I’m not. I’m a demon. We don’t get attached, remember? There’s a lot we do do but we don’t get gushy over babies and we especially don’t get pregnant by angels who’ve got a hair trigger and finish too fast.”

The glare he shot her meant that he understood that insult. “As I recall, you “finished” several times before I…” he cleared his throat at that memory. “That’s hardly the point.”

“Ah huh.” Her eyes went over him. She’d been pulled away so fast by the summoning that it should have take him hours to find her but he’d been able to show up at the perfect time. “How did you find me so fast?”

“I’m still not sure. One moment I was in the bunker about to summon you and the next I was in the cemetery. It didn’t take much to figure out that you were there.” Castiel moved a few steps closer to her and Meg had the urge to put even more space between them.

“Stop that.”

He was staring at her again with that strange inquisitive look that reminded her of a puppy. “What do you think it is?”

Meg shrugged. “Dunno. That whole Cambion thing never swung with me. That was for the incubus demons and ones that thought they could create an Anti-Christ. Not me: I was just a plain old soldier and I was good at that.”

As he sat beside her, she heard him mutter, “So was I.”

They sat in silence for a while, Meg still reclined back and Castiel sitting on the edge. Separated by inches and thick tension, angel and demon did nothing more than look at each other sidelong. Consciously aware of every rise and fall of her breath, the change in her body heat, and the fluctuation in her heartbeat at times, he slowly started to watch her as if somehow she was going to miraculously change and there would be nothing.

But the longer he sat there the more he realized that it wasn’t changing.

Even a demon as old as she was, with what power she had, couldn’t hide what he was clearly sensing now.

“I could see if what I felt is really what we think it is,” he offered and she gave him a suspicious look.

“How?” 

“I can give it a shot, as Dean would say,” Castiel continued and she flinched when he turned on the couch to face her. His fingers stretched out towards her ribs and she swatted at him.

“Give it a shot? What the hell do you…” Meg went to block his hand but it was already on her stomach before she could stop him. The brilliant sparks of pain it brought had her squirming but his attention was on his hand. She saw a flash in his blue eyes and around them there was a faint humming sound that angels resonated with when using their power.

“I’ve done this before and it may hurt for a minute.”

“Castiel, stop! I’m warning you, knock it off!”

His fingers dipped just tiny bit below her meat suit’s flesh. Meg stared at the tips of his fingers in pained amazement as they disappeared into her body, and the sharp burning feeling made her twist and turn on the couch. His eyes deepened to an intense blue as he focussed. Unable to take it, she nearly doubled over to try to get away from his touch. 

Castiel’s fingers glowed and went just a bit further into her until there was a loud ping of noise and a vibration that tore through the cabin. There was only a moment where time stood still and they stared at each other in shock before it snapped back to reality. Castiel went flying across the room and Meg felt a kick back of power that sent her flying the opposite way. He crashed through the living room window while she landed against the table with a bang.

“Goddamn angels! Warn me next time!” she yelled as she got to her feet, shoving broken bottles off her.

Lying flat on his back outside in the dirt, Castiel felt as if his head had been smashed into concrete. He had to blink several times just to see clearly again, the starry sky turning rapidly over him. He waited until he could see straight before he picked himself up from the pieces of the window he’d crashed through. Giving the cabin an incredulous look, Castiel wiped the blood away from his nose. 

Whatever had hit him had hit him hard, nearly the equivalent of one of Raphael’s beatings years ago. Scrambling back through the window, dropping glass and wood frame on his way, he dusted himself off and watched as Meg stepped forward towards him.

Her grin made him glare down at her.

“It’s not funny.”

“Way to fly, Clarence. Angel didn’t get his flight pattern right?”

“It attacked me!”

“It.” Meg snorted and rubbed her now warm stomach. “That’s real nice thing to say about the inter-species whatever is in here.”

Castiel tilted his head a little, eyeing her suspiciously. “It is dangerous. We should do something.”

“Yeah?” Meg took two steps into him and his eyes widened in surprise at her closeness. “Like what?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Yeah? Well, then call the boyfriends and see what they think. I dare you.”

Not liking the way she was goading him or the way she was thinking he was too afraid to face Dean, Castiel fished his phone out of his deep pocket and went off to call him again.

“Demons,” he muttered as he stalked out of the cabin to cool his temper.

* * *

 

His ears rang from Dean’s shouting over the phone. There had been nearly five minutes of it until Sam’s amused voice had said he’d call back when Dean calmed down. Castiel threw the phone on the couch as he came back into the cabin and looked at the damage he still had to fix before the Winchesters ever saw it. The tension in the cabin was thick and he checked the wards for the hundredth time out of reflex.

The sound of fingers drumming on a counter kept drawing his attention.

He watched her, standing at the window and staring out at the quiet woods. The changes were small, not enough to draw any attention from a human, but as an angel he could see the smoky edges of her power curling around her protectively. Something was wrong and he knew that she was hurt. Hiding it. 

But hurting.

The line of her back went ramrod straight when he crossed the floor, moving slow. He saw her hair swish over her back, the growing dark roots in the blond creating an odd false halo, and he waited for her. Her eyes were black when she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“What do you want?”

He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her around. Meg was stiff under his touch, ready for another fight, but he kept his eyes on her.

“I want to try again.”

“One abomination is enough and biology only swings the one at a time.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Meg looked him up and down. “You think you can figure it out?”

“No. But I can still try. I won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah. Love to believe that.” He stared at her and finally she nodded, jumping up to sit on the counter. “All right, give it another whirl. I better land on the couch this time though.”

“I’ll be careful.” 

Slowly, his fingers slid between the buttons of her shirt and onto her stomach, pressing just on her skin. They both waited, ready for another explosion, but this time there was only a faint buzzing sound in the air. Castiel’s fingers slid in a slow circle on her skin, his attention drawn to the movement of his hand under the flannel. 

Meg’s eyes shut slowly as the tiny impossible feeling inside of her moved towards his touch. She wasn’t aware of her own lean into him and barely aware of the way he leaned forward with his lips just brushing against her forehead. The slow intake of breath between them was loud in the silent cabin and, as his fingers slowly pushed on her skin, she felt as if he was inside her.

She should push him away before he touched too deep, she realized groggily.

It was still one of the most intimate things she’d felt since Alastair had carved into her centuries ago.

“I can’t tell what it is. Except that it is strong,” he muttered and she opened her eyes to see him staring at her now. Something in that look made her look away. “Both of you are.”

“You say the sweetest things, Clarence. Mind getting your fingers outta there?” She demanded and he gingerly pulled his hand back. “Look at us, all in one piece. What was different this time around?”

“I wasn’t threatening I suppose.” Nervously, he shrugged. “Before, I was a little….”

“Dickish?” He glared. “Don’t take it hard, Castiel, but you angels get this self-righteous thing going on and it likely pissed the kid off.”

“Maybe.”

Her fingers dug into the counter and she shook her head. “So what do we do?”

“To be very honest, I have no idea.”

The demon exhaled. “To the Winchesters then and hope Han and Chewie have a clue, huh?”

Castiel nodded. “At least to keep you protected until we can figure out what this is.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Hell, I really miss the good old apocalyptic days. Or even a few months ago. Those were nice mind-numbing times.”

* * *

 

Chuck lay sprawled on the living room floor, white papers blanketing the carpet and pens scattered around him. His eyes were intent on the page before him and he hesitated as his pen touched the blank surface. Those moments of inspiration that had helped him, that had created an out, hadn’t stopped but now he was faced with another problem.

He had so many ideas that they were scrambled together.

“Okay so.” He grabbed a sheet. “If we go with the idea of nephi… no that won’t work. Would it? Maybe it would if I tweak it.”

_“What did you do!”_  

The voice caused his coffee mug to shatter but he ignored the stains it caused on his papers. He just moved them out of the way and grabbed a clean piece of paper.

“You’ve been asking me the same question for the past two hours and I’m not answering you any different. I saved the story.”

“ _All you are doing is making me angry.”_

Chuck looked up at the woman standing over him. “You look beautiful when angry.”

Her pale cheeks turned red in anger. “ _You will regret this.”_

“Yeah.” She disappeared from his sight and he looked back down. “I get that a lot.”

He looked at the empty piece of paper and smiled as he started to write, _“Sheol did not know why she had felt slightly lesser than her usual self. Ironically oblivious to — ”_

“No, that isn’t right. Ugh, um, fading? Forgetting, not really yet. Hmm…”

He smirked. “ _She felt divided_.”

* * *

 

Sheol froze in the reality between their worlds and turned back around to the doorway she’d just exited through. The only Gods who could affect her were Death and the Creation God himself. Both were just under her authority as well. She was the Final Death. It was to her this would all go to. 

But for the first time in eternity, she realized that she felt strange.

Not regretting, not any less powerful.

But strange.

She felt _threatened._

_What if what he had done was affecting her?_

* * *

 

The Winchesters were ready for their arrival and by the time the door opened, Dean was already getting ready to rip them apart. Meg had barely stepped foot into the Hall before he was threatening to fill her with salt. Or exorcise her.

“Hell, you are such a jealous girlfriend about these things,” she grumbled and he blinked. “I brought your boyfriend home from our late night date, don’t worry.”

“Where is Kevin?” Castiel asked even though Dean was shoving him towards the table in the archives.

“He’s safe,” Sam explained. “Sleeping, I hope.”

“Sounds good to me.” Meg started to slip away but Dean had hold of her arm and was pushing her towards the table as well.

He almost snarled. “Sit down and shut up.”

Castiel saw Meg blink in surprise, equally biting words ready to fly out, and he straightened up. It was better to try to calm them both down. “Dean, I…”

“You too. Sit!”

Leaning against a shelf, Sam tried not to laugh at the matching sullen expressions on their faces as they sat at the table, separated by a few chairs. They looked like teenagers who’d been caught stealing or making out. When Castiel had told Dean over the phone, Sam nearly had to pick his brother up off the floor. Since then, his disbelief had turned to anger and disappointment.

Castiel was about to realize how much of a big brother Dean could be to those he cared about.

“Dean,” Castiel tried again.

“No. You are gonna sit there, shut up, and I’m gonna yell at you because it will make me feel better.” Dean scraped a chair out and sat down. “What the hell were you thinking? Sleeping with a demon! Are you sick in the head?”

“Likely did a guy thing and thought with his…”

“Shut up, Meg.” Dean was focussed on Castiel. “How long did this go on? Since the hospital?”

The demon rolled her eyes and Castiel looked insulted. “Meg was my caretaker then. It never crossed our minds.”

“So what? You got bored? Is that it? And you only needed one time too?”

“Well, biologically speaking, if we had been human then it would have only required one time.”

“Damn it, Cas, you know she’s a demon, right?”

Meg leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling. “Wake me up when Dean stops screeching.”

Castiel fidgeted. “It was a moment. We were mutually… in need.”

The demon smirked at that though her eyes stayed shut.

“How the hell does an angel know nothing about protection?” Dean asked. “How the…”

“Though I doubt we are the first angel and demon to engage in intercourse, these consequences don’t happen.” Castiel put his hands on the table. “Ever. There’s a lack of compatibility.”

“Clearly they do happen,” Sam pointed out.

“Ever, Sam. Something changed.”

“So what? Something changed. Fine. You knocked her up and now we’ve got a whole new brand of evil to deal with?” Dean glared at him and Castiel met his gaze.

“Why do you automatically assume it is evil?” He glanced at Meg but she was still faking sleep. The demon would be no help at all. Nevermind he’d assumed the same thing before. What he’d felt when he touched inside her the second time had not been evil. Just strong.

“Because of that bitch.”

She snorted and didn’t open her eyes to the insult.

“Cas has a point, Dean.” Sam adjusted his position to relieve his aching muscles. “I mean, maybe it is, you know, good.”

Dean glared at him over his shoulder. “Sam, it’s impossible. Impossible whatever they ares aren’t good, they’re — they’re — impossible!”

“Sometimes you get so articulate you make me me all dewy, Deano,” Meg drawled and he gave a disgusted grunt. Castiel glanced at her and, without opening her eyes, she grinned. “Don’t worry, feathers, you staked your claim for now.

Sam caught the tiny smirk on Castiel’s face but it was gone before he could comment on it.

“So. A demon gets pregnant by an angel. That’s one for the record books.” He slapped his hands on his thigh and shrugged. “So what do we do?”

“Figure out what Meg’s master plan is.” Dean was fixated on her now. “Because she’s a demon and we all know they would love to get their hands on something like this.”

“That is such a racist thing to say, Dean.” Her eyes opened to reveal blackness, something that made him flinch.

“Shoe fits.”

“You think I want this thing to happen? I am a demon, you idiots. The last thing I have in my body is a maternal instinct and we all know that whatever this is? It isn’t exactly going to make my life a hell of a lot easier.” Meg shook her head. “Next thing you know you jerks are going to say I did it deliberately.”

“I dunno, did you?” Dean shot back.

“Oh right. Because I hunted you down to find Cas, got to enjoy hospital food for a few months, spent a year getting tortured, then I was killed helping you though you all seem to forget that, I was brought back against my will, and to top it off I seduced your little sweet little virginal angel a few times.” Castiel bristled at that comment. “All because I want to pop out the newest abomination this side of Hell which will no doubt cause me a hell of a lot of pain.”

Dean cleared his throat.

“Winchester, do you even listen to yourself talk or is it all white noise at this point?

He jutted his chin out and glared at her.

Sam rubbed at his eyes. “So why keep it? Demons can end pregnancies and Cas said it wasn’t a Cambion so…”

“Yeah, a year ago I would have done what I needed. Demons don’t keep baggage, you know that. It would be the thing to do.” Ignoring Castiel’s sudden intake of breath, she looked at her hands on the table. Only Sam noticed they were tightly clenched. “I… can’t.” 

He blinked. He’d heard her distress and it wasn’t normal for her.

“Because I…” Meg shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Sam coughed and wiped the blood from his lips. Castiel and Dean were both staring at the demon and she blinked, realizing they were staring.

“Stop looking at me like I’m hot topic at the strip bar, boys. I said I didn’t know.”

“And Sam said Cas didn’t know. So whatever is in there is strong enough to hide from him.” Dean was staring at her stomach and Meg snapped her fingers at him.

“Knock it off.”

“So what do we do?” Sam asked Castiel and the angel shook his head.

“I don’t have any answers.”

“So you’re sure it is yours then?” Dean goaded, earning matching glares from all three of them. “What?”

“I got it,” Meg said suddenly, as if inspiration had struck, and he looked to see her staring at the table. Her eyes dragged up and there was no mistaking the anger in that look. “I’m gonna go put my head through a wall and pretend we aren’t trying to Maury me to death, ‘kay?”

She shoved back from the table.

“My cell still good?”

Sam nodded and watched as she stalked off.

“I’ll speak to her.” Castiel pushed away as well but Dean stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Cas. You better figure this out fast because we can’t risk everything for a demon. Not now.”

* * *

 

“Cold basement. Can’t say I missed it,” Meg muttered as she walked slowly back to her cell. Behind her, Castiel muttered an agreement but his eyes were on the slow glide in her step. They were slipping through the building as quietly as they could and he ran his hands over the wall, trying to find a sign for how she’d been forced from its safe wards. 

He’d not really noticed how tiny her meatsuit was until now that he’d touched it more intimately than before. Her smallness had always been a deception but he found himself watching her and wondering if he’d been tricked. Once the door swung behind them, she started undressing while complaining about blood stained clothing.

Castiel would have turned around but she caught his nervous look. “Knock it off, you’ve already seen more than most angels get to see.”

“I know.”

“I hate flannel,” she began to mutter to herself.

“Are you still dreaming?” he asked suddenly. “Of Lethe?”

She stiffened a little, shrugged, and then shoved her jeans down over her hips. “Yeah.”

“Worse?”

“Fades in and out. More now than before. Which I can’t complain about. Who wants to keep dreaming of not feeling pain when reality is worse.”

She unbuttoned the flannel shirt and let it slide free from her body. Castiel watched the slow fall of material and then saw the way her hands smoothed down over her still healing side. 

“It seems as if this all began because of what I did and didn’t do.”

“Yeah. That crossed my mind.” Meg grabbed the spare shirt Sam had grudgingly given her last time and pulled it on.

“Did you know this might happen?” he asked softly and she turned on her heel to face him.

“Did you? Takes two, Castiel, and you didn’t fight me.” Her grin was lewd. “As I recall you were more than happy to rise to the occasion.”

He looked away at the wall and she sat on the cot, leaning back on the frame. 

“I had thought…”

“Thinking gets us into trouble, remember? Clarence, I really need a break from your psychotherapy, okay? Before I lose it and actually put my head through the wall.”

He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not anymore. While Meg stretched out on the cot, he began to pick up and fold, still smelling sulphur and blood on the material. As he smoothed out the wrinkles in her jeans, he thought he saw her watching him but then her head turned to the side. With nothing else to do, he put her clothes at the foot of the bed before taking a seat beside her. 

Her fingers flexed on her stomach.

Curiosity got the best of him again now that he had a moment of quiet alone with the demon.

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really. Since we came here though I feel weird.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s the wards.” Her eyes closed halfway and he stared at her face. 

“You have to understand.” He looked at the way her breasts rose and fell evenly as if she was falling asleep. “That these things should not happen. Angels know what creatures were meant for existence, we are told well in advance, and this would be a blasphemy.”

One still bruised eye cracked open. “So you’re telling me that angels never got kinky and had kids?”

Reaching out, he tugged on the hem of the oversized shirt and his fingers slid against the curve of her thigh. Her legs slid apart a little out of reflex and he ran his hand over her knee to her ankle.

“There’s stories. Rumours mostly. I was a soldier still at that time.”

Meg tightened up under his grip but he kept smoothing his fingers over her skin. Castiel absently drew sigil patterns with his thumb and forefinger that caused her to shiver.

“Back when the humans were just coming into their own, there were rumours that angels fathered children when we were first figuring out how to use vessels. Ones like Gabriel and the other firstborn not so worried about touching humans. Some were even already fallen. Most of their children became mortal and powerless, and a few eventually lost their souls. Turned into demons. Old and very strong ones…”

His voice dropped off and he looked at her face curiously. “The survivors that is.”

“And?”

“Some of the garrison were ordered to destroy them by Michael. So that angelic essence would not be sullied. It was the way it had to be.”

Meg shifted. “Your point?”

“There’s never been anything like this before, Meg.”

“So then it’s probably just your meatsuit and mine. Biology. That’s it.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Pure biology.”

His gaze lifted from her leg. 

“I doubt it is anything that simple.” His eyes flicked over her face. “Because that would make this child human and we can both tell that it isn’t.”

“Yeah, that would have been too simple, huh?”

He nodded, slowly pulling his hand back from her leg, and she watched his face. That bland look he liked was back. 

Castiel stood up from the cot and shook his head. “I need to find information on this. Someone should know something. Somewhere.”

Meg tilted her head up at him. “You know, this is the first time I’ve really seen you not knowing what to do with me, Castiel.”

“There’s a first time for everything. I’m glad you can enjoy it,” he drawled, willing to let her have her moment.

But her frown wasn’t mocking. “I never said I liked it.”

* * *

Kevin had his head buried under a pillow, trying to block out the urge to flip the sheets back and start working again. He was exhausted and he was sure he’d been hallucinating earlier. His vision of Castiel and Crowley had been as if he’d been seeing it through another person’s eyes. It had been so clear that it had torn through him and made him want it desperately to stop the power that was starting resonate inside of him. Someone else had been using him and he’d been terrified. The only thing he’d wanted was to faint to get rid of that pressure in his head.

It had. Eventually.

He was just so tired.

“Hello, Kevin.”

The sudden voice drifting through his room made him fall off the bed, banging his head on the night-stand.  A year of running let him recover fast and as he rolled he grabbed a vial of holy water from the drawer.

He already had it open by the time he jumped to his feet.

A beautiful woman stood at the door, leaning against the frame with a sweet smile on her face. His hand lowered, confused by the sheer power she exuded. She looked kind and concerned.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” he demanded, shaking his head to try to get rid of that familiarity he saw her with.

Her hands went out to show they were empty. “I’m not here to hurt you. Or give you to Crowley. I’m beyond that sort of pettiness. I’m here to help.”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Her smile was kind. “You wouldn’t. Martyrs and prophets only go to Heaven, no matter what end they meet. But I am not here for that. I’m here to give you the help you need.”

“Help? … You’re - are you a ghost?” Kevin was struggling to keep his eyes open as a feeling of warm lethargy started to creep into him. He blinked slowly and when he reopened them she was standing mere inches away. Her soft hands cupped his face and Kevin stared into her eyes dumbly.

“I’m here to help. All of you. Whatever trials and tribulations you must face to rid yourselves of pain — forever. Because of Him. You hurt. Because of Him. I can save you.”

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Kevin spoke slowly, feeling as if he was drugged by her presence. Her fingers smoothed down his scruffy cheek.

“The last trial, a sacrifice.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know what you are — a-a demon or an angel or-”

Her head bent and she pressed a chaste kiss against his mouth and he closed his eyes. Her kiss sent a bolt of pure power through him and for the first time in months he felt revitalized. But before he could do more than stand and accept her kiss, she was gone.

“Sacrifice?”

Kevin opened his eyes in a daze, a goofy grin on his face, and stared at the walls. There was no memory of what had just happened. Only that he thought he’d figured it all out by himself. He felt as if every doubt and thought in the past hour had been scrubbed clean. He himself was clean.

A world of knowledge, of Enochian and a hundred ancient dead languages, suddenly began to whirl in his mind and he smiled. 

“A cure and a sacrifice.”

He took two steps and promptly tripped face first onto his bed. His head planted into the pillow as he fell into his first real sleep in months.


	10. Illuminated (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel struggles to understand what he is meant to do, not realizing how deep manipulations of God and Oblivion have become. Frustrated and restless, Meg turns to Dean and Sam to help her locate an unlikely source of guidance.

** Illuminated (When Demons Reveal AU) **

**Part 2  
**

**  
**Chuck froze mid-sentence and blinked. That strange relaxed feeling in him was familiar.

“What have you done?” he whispered, staring at the type before him. He’d started to put it all into his laptop and the hours had been long enough. But now the words were black smudges on the backlight and he realized that his mind, for the first time all day, was blank.

The idea that he’d been working with was gone.

“No. That’s not fair.”

He threw himself into rereading his work, trying to figure out what could have gone wrong.

“ _Castiel knew he needed to find an answer for what he had to do, before Crowley reappeared. Before it all fell down around him…”_

* * *

 

Standing alone on a New Hampshire beach, in a trenchcoat and suit, compared to the people dressed in spring colours Castiel stuck out. Sand was already filling his shoes, the breeze was blowing his hair up into wild disarray, and the heat made his coat stifling hot. He just closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

But for every breath he took, a sense of panic started to overcome him.

The fists he had clenched at his sides opened and abruptly the weather on the beach turned over, lightning and threatening clouds quickly chasing the sun from the sky. The tourists ran for cover but he stood alone on the beach, head tilted back as the first drops of rain began to strike the water meters away. His eyes followed the lightning, trying to find comfort in the danger of its beauty.

That sort of fascination was what had resulted in this predicament in the first place.

There were no answers readily available. It had been a lie to Meg because of all the angels, he knew the answers. His time as a God had only cemented how much he knew.

There was nothing of this in any text known to the angels. No other creature had existed because it was not supposed to be.

He had nothing to give him some sense of purpose.

“I know that I’ve not asked for your help in a very long time, that I’ve lapsed in my faith. But please, Father. I need help. I need there to be a reason. I need to know what to do.” Castiel closed his eyes and tried hard to feel that unshakeable faith he had once had. 

But as ever, there was silence.

He was on the verge of considering Heaven, of submitting himself to judgement for the sake of an answer and direction, when a warm feeling flooded him. It was so akin to what he had felt during his resurrection the very first time that he closed his eyes to enjoy it. It was a peaceful moment and he relaxed his entire being into it. Just under his feet was a shift of movement and he was aware that he was being turned around and it only increased the sensation of his vessel’s skin tingling.

* * *

 

When he reopened his eyes, the stormy skies of the Hampton beach were gone and the sand in his shoes was gone. He’d been moved into a room with soft yellow walls, clean hardwood floors, and an absolute silence that was nearly deafening. It was warm and comforting and he tilted his head to look around, catching bits and pieces of antique furniture. There was nothing to distinguish this place, to make it familiar to him.

Except for the walls. They were marked with lines of scrawls and drawings, interrupted in the middle each time by three circles crossed out by slash marks.

“I’m in a dream.”

But angels didn’t dream. The lack of soul made it beyond them, especially since they didn’t sleep. Still, this was strange enough that he took the room in curiously and wanted to absorb every detail.

_Someone else’s dream maybe? Where was he?_

Castiel stepped towards the walls and ran his hand over them. The intricate writing was raised like a type of braille and he knew that this was the kind of writing that had been etched on the tablets. Easy to recognize since he had seen the same sort of writing that was on the angel tablet, the one he himself had hid in the safest place he knew. The scrawls ran from floor to ceiling but they were still unreadable.

“Strange.”

A low whimper behind him, a strange sound like a cry of fear, made Castiel go for his sword. It slid into his grip as he turned around, and he raised the hilt a bit. But the only thing now in the room besides the writing and himself was a mahogany wood crib. Castiel turned his sword around in his palm, ready for something to leap out in this dream place to attack. 

But there was only another whimper and nervously he began to circle the room, edging closer to the centre as he went.

When he reached the crib, there was stillness in the air until suddenly a ping noise reverberated in his ears so loud he cried out in pain. The sword vibrated in his grip and he had to tighten his fingers to keep from dropping it. The ping sound quieted when he lowered the sword a little and stared down.

A baby, newborn and one of the smallest he had ever seen, was swaddled up, one small fist pressed to her tiny lips and her barely open eyes fluttering. A girl, he realized after a moment, and he tilted his head to get a better look.

_She is why._

A foreign, sexless voice, boomed through his temples.

His fingers went slack on the sword and it dropped point first into the floor, but he didn’t care that it disappeared. He didn’t even notice that the ping sound was gone now that his weapon was out of sight. The baby mewled again, rubbing at her eyes, and forgetting his hesitation, he reached out to soothe her obvious distress.

“Who left you here?” he muttered as his fingers brushed her downy cheek. Castiel blinked in surprise as her own tiny fingers gripped his thumb and pulled it to her mouth. He gently tugged back a little but she held tight. His touch seemed to comfort her.

“You’re… innocent. You shouldn’t be left alone.”

Nothing radiated off of the baby but a sense of Grace edged in a casing of thorns to protect her. Different than his and a demon’s though; with far more facets and intricacies that made it hard to tell exactly what the baby was and what she could do. Whatever she was wasn’t clear.

But he could feel her fear at being alone. 

She whimpered again. The distress she was feeling made him worried that he had hurt her and he withdrew his hand but it just made her louder. He picked her up carefuly, unable to help his want to hold her and keep her safe. Cradling her tiny body, he tucked his arms protectively around her and held her close. The small sounds became quieter as she clung to his coat lapel. Looking away from her tiny face, Castiel stepped towards the walls and realized that the writing was gone since he’d picked her up.

“What is going on?” he asked her, not expecting an answer. The walls were once again pale yellow and smooth. “You’re… not the threat, are you?”

He looked back down to see blue eyes fixed on him. A happy gurgle replaced her whimpering, tiny fingers clenching against his coat, and he smiled at her. Gently, he used one hand to caress her face, wanting to calm her further.

“You’re not the threat.”

_You needed a reason. Protect her. That’s your reason._

That booming voice resonated through his head and he shut his eyes again.

* * *

 

Too soon his arms were empty and when he opened his eyes the room was gone and he was on the beach once again. The rain cascaded around him in torrents but he didn’t care that he was soaked to the bone. Castiel ignored the cold water dripping down his face and felt only a strange sense of loss and ache. For a moment, he’d felt peace and quiet.

“Protect her from what and how?” he demanded of the sky. More importantly, which _her_ was he to protect?

“Hello, Castiel.”

He froze and looked around to see that he’d been surrounded by four angels. Naomi stood with them, her suit and hair immaculate as always despite the rain and her eyes troubled. Automatically he went for his fallen sword but she held up a hand.

“No. We are not here to fight. That does not seem to work anyway, does it?”

He kept a watchful eye on the angels at his side. “So what do you want? The tablet? I am not…”

“You’ll give it to us in time. You always do what is right. Eventually. No, Castiel. I received an interesting piece of information and I would like for you to invalidate it for me.”

He swallowed at the way her eyes fixed on his. She was brilliant at perceiving truth and he was already aware that just by being here he was telling her too much.

“Your demon. The one I let you keep alive when she should have been killed.”

“What of her?”

Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. “Is she with child?”

“Who would be telling you that?”

“An interested party.”

“Crowley then. How dirty are your wings now?” Castiel muttered and her lips tightened. The analogy wasn’t lost on her.

“No dirtier than yours apparently. Is she with child?”

There was no point in lying. She clearly knew the truth. “Yes.”

“A Cambion? You will kill it then to prevent…”

“It is not a Cambion.” Castiel wondered what she was playing at. Surely Crowley… but no. The demon King would want to hurt them all the most that he could.

And what better way than holding back such a vital piece of information?

“An immaculate conception?” she prompted. “Do we have a demonic Christ figure on our hands? There are first times for everything.”

His teeth ground together at her flippancy. “What do you want?”

“My curiosity is not whether this is a Cambion. Such a thing is easy to dispose of. A mere push down the steps, for example. Those beings are fragile. But since you say that it is not one that I really do need to ask.”

She stepped towards him.

“Did you sully yourself with a demon’s touch?”

He refused to look at her and she nodded knowingly.

“I see. Though you would hardly be the first.” Her voice dropped a little, sounding tired. “Is this thing yours? Do you claim it as yours?”

The words were heavy with meaning and he knew she wanted him to deny it as a way of protecting himself. If he denied it, he could be free of it all. The angels might not even suspect it to be half angel and therefore it would be none of their business. Denying it could give him time.

“Castiel? Answer me. Is this just a demon-human hybrid from that whore?”

He frowned at her, recognizing the phrasing. She and Crowley must be speaking frequently for her to pick up the King’s pet name for Meg. It was one Castiel hated. Why was she speaking to Crowley so intimately?

“Castiel!”

He jumped and realized that the other angels had edged forward towards him.

Unspeakably, a strange sense of pride and protectiveness overcame his hesitation.

“It is my child.”

As one, all of the angels recoiled in horror and Naomi’s eyes almost glowed in anger.

“You would create such an unholy abomination!” Her eyes raked over him and he squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze with a smirk. Even through the rain he once again resembled a defiant soldier. “And you… are proud of it. Proud!”

The disgust in her voice barely dented his small smile. “This is my charge and I will protect her.”

“Her? The demon bitch?” Naomi’s voice was almost hysterical. “Castiel, I cannot clean this up! This is not supposed to be!”

He kept an eye on the angels who looked ready to rend him from wing to wing.

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked at him again her expression was incredibly kind. “Brother, please.”

She stepped close and put her hands on his cheeks, leaning close. “Come back to us. We are your family and there are so few of us now. I will see that you are allowed back in Heaven.”

He closed his eyes. His sister leaned forward until their foreheads met, a sign of affection she did not give often.

“All we would ask would be for you to eliminate this threat. You know in your heart that this thing is a threat. It is the right thing to do. Our Father would want this.”

Castiel opened his eyes and stared into hers. “No. He wouldn’t.”

Her jaw tightened. “Then there is no hope for you after all. We are your family.”

“No. My family is not there. Not anymore. I have made my family here.”

She flinched. “And this thing?”

“Is mine. Do not threaten me, sister.” Castiel looked at the angels beside him and they backed off slowly. When he looked back around, Naomi’s face had become nothing more than a mask of frustrated anger. An angel sword was shining in her grip and he shook his head. “Or I will remind you why Raphael did not win his war easily.” 

Her shout of fury was lost as he bent and  grabbed his own sword to parry her blow. When they met mid-strike, the two swords screeched as the heavenly metal ran against each other.

“You would betray us all, damn us for the sake of some unborn abomination!” she shouted and she lashed out, catching him on the chin with her elbow.

“I am trying to save us all!” he shouted back and then jerked to a stop. _Where had that come from?_

_Was that the reason…_

Naomi took advantage of his moment and slashed out hard, catching him in the side. His coat tore as Castiel turned and blocked her blow, sending his fist into her cheek so hard she sprawled down. The other angels guarding her stepped forward and he held out his hand.

“This doesn’t have to be a war. All I am asking for is time. I am trying to keep you all safe.”

Naomi spit up a mouthful of blood and glared at him.

“Please.”

He was gone before she could do more than shout a curse at his shadow. 

* * *

 

Meg’s frustration started to get the better of her. Without Castiel there to act as buffer, she was left at the mercy of the Winchesters.

And living in a hall with men who cranked AC/DC and shouted over the music was just as bad as she remembered it.

Where had the angel gone several days ago? She’d expected him to be hovering around her, making a pest of himself as he explained all the biological and mathematical reasons why this was wrong. The sort of explanations that would put her to sleep. Especially in that raspy voice of his.

She hadn’t even managed to rest and be bored without him there.

Sam was in the archives again. As always. Kevin was equally immersed at a chalkboard upstairs, writing line after line like a man possessed. Dean was busy trying to decipher what he was writing and failing from what she could tell.

Meg chose the lesser of three evils.

“What up, Moose?”

Sam jumped and promptly toppled over a pile of books. She arched her eyebrow and sat on the table beside him. The younger Winchester hurriedly began to pull the books away from her and she watched him curiously. 

“Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Don’t jump like a wuss then. It’s still funny to watch someone your size do a ballerina spin.” She sighed and eyed the books. “These aren’t about your trials, are they?”

Even Meg could tell that he was trying to hide them from her. She didn’t care about the trials and they all knew it; solely focussed on killing Crowley, she’d even helped them when they let her. But for him to hide the books meant something else.

“They are just… research.” He coughed hoarsely. “About your little bundle there.”

“What? This?” They both looked at her flat stomach. “You think that someone in history recorded anything like this before? Demons and angels equal mortal enemies, remember?” she pointed out. 

“Yeah well… that really didn’t stop you and Cas, did it?” Sam countered and he tucked a book on nephilim theories and executions under a pile of holy texts. “So to speak.”

She hummed and flipped a book on voodoo open but he reached over to snatch it from her. “What do you want, Meg?”

“Besides a quart of vodka?”

“Yeah well. In your condition that’s not something you should do.”

“Forced sobriety? Shut up right now or I’ll make your life hell.”

“You already do. Man, you are a real joy to have around.” Sam rolled his eyes at the empty threat. “You know, you got edgier when Cas left. Do you miss him or something?”

“Shut it.”

“No shame in admitting it. Maybe your thing for him is deeper than you know.” Sam remembered her calling Castiel a unicorn and eyed her. “Way deeper.”

“I’m a demon, Moose. We don’t get deep.”

“Don’t get pregnant either.” He glanced up to see Dean coming back. His brother gave Meg a look before glancing at Sam, who made a face that said “don’t ask.”

“Why are you hanging around Sam, Meg?”

“Look, I decided I can’t wait around for Mr. Holy Roller to come back like some dead-beat dad. So you boys get to help me instead. I need to figure something out now and the best way to go around this is to get an expert on the subject.”

“Expert on demon angel babies?” Dean asked. “Those exist?”

“Babies in general, moron,” Meg explained. “Want me to speak slower?” 

“What, some sort of demonic obstetrician?” he tried again, gritting his teeth together. Damn demon was pricklier than normal.

“No. Even you should know better than to go get a demon right now, right?” Meg shook her head. “I don’t like calling on these creatures. They’re shifty and they have this whole ‘earth’ magic thing that turns me off. But if we get the right one…”

“A right what?” Sam demanded.

“Fairy.” She eyed Dean and grin. “Thought you’d be happy to see another one of your kind.”

He glared full force, muttering under his breath, and Meg smirked back. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Why a fairy?”

“Because they don’t owe allegiances to anyone,” Dean figured out and she nodded. “I don’t like it.”

“Neither will Cas but we’re not going to tell him, are we?”

“So why can’t we call Cas and tell him what you’re doing?” Sam asked.

“More importantly why do we care?” Dean pointed out.

“Because if you tell him I might just rip those pretty faces off, ‘kay?” Meg snapped back with a squint of her nose and a cutesy look. Dean glared at her.

“You were more threatening when you were inside Sam, you know.”

“Bet you say that to all the girls.”

Sam looked away uncomfortably. 

“Fine. Sam, get her what she needs. I’m going to try to get Kevin to rest before he passes out again.” 

As Dean stalked off, Sam gave Meg an uncomfortable look. “Fairies? Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Better than you guys trying to think up ways to kill it, huh? Or did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He looked away. “What’s in the spell?”

* * *

 

Castiel was sure he’d never met a woman quite like Linda Tran before. She made him uncomfortable, had a way of directly addressing him that wasn’t remotely like any human before without a sense of awe. He’d found her at Garth’s second hideout, cleaning up the mess of books and papers, and she’d not even flinched at the way he appeared out of no where. Just stared at him, threw the dust pan on the ground, and waited.

“I… uh…”

“Where is Kevin?” she interrupted.

“Safe. With Dean and Sam.”

She snorted and looked away. “That’s not safe.” Castiel backed up a step as she came towards him like a mother bear ready to kill a threat. “Why are you here if he’s not in trouble?”

“I need your help.”

Linda nearly choked and stopped short. “My help? With what?”

“I need to make someone safe. It will take some work, making the rooms safe. And I think a certain… feminine touch would help.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit up at him. “A fem… who exactly? That demon you brought back?”

He’d nearly forgotten that Linda had lived with Meg for a short period of time on the houseboat. He’d been so focussed on Meg’s recovery then.

“Yes.” 

For a minute it looked like the elder Tran was going to say no but then she shrugged. “Better than listening to Garth still mope about his sock puppet’s death. Best thing a demon ever did for me was setting that thing on fire. What exactly are you making, Castiel?”

He managed to look her in the eye. “Something to keep her safe. A… a… a temporary home until she gives…”

There was a reason why her son was brilliant.

“She’s pregnant. Yours?” 

He stared at her. That a human was able to pick this up faster than an angel or demon had him looking at her with a bit of awe.

No wonder why Dean and Sam liked her so much. 

“Oh come on. I saw the signs a mile away between you two. There’s a shock.” She curtly nodded. “Plus I like to paint.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to yell at you for this anyway because how the hell do these things even happen?”

Castiel nodded. “Everyone has been asking that lately.”

* * *

 

Sheol lay on her favourite couch, stretched from side to side with her arms extended to either side. Since taking a human form, she found it easy to lay back and let the whole of Lethe consume her. It moved with her, its entire being depended on her, and she felt every soul intimately as her process cleansed them. Some left to become new souls, some stayed and found peace in her waters.

But her eyes were staring up at the ceiling and she was unfocussed.

That unsettled feeling hadn’t eased. Not even when she’d appeared to Kevin Tran. The prophet had felt good to touch, a sort of balance, because when she had touched him he had shown her what he’d seen.

Though she wasn’t surprised. So she’d followed the angel, invisible as ever to him, and realized one irrevocable truth.

Castiel was not going to leave Meg alone. Not now.

The angel wasn’t right. Others would have forced the child out of her and would have submitted to the will of the Heavenly Host.  Yet here was this one solitary angel defying them. Defying her.

She’d watched him face the angels. His own family. If she wasn’t so righteously angry with his interference, she would have been impressed that at least one angel had cut free from God’s cookie cutter mould. He was now an angel protecting what he saw as his responsibilities and the unborn child would be part of that.

_Damn you._

A slow sensation of drifting filled her. She could depend on Meg. The demon would not fail her, she knew it. She would miss Lethe once it all came crashing down on her and she would help the close the Gates no matter the cost.

Then it could end. Once capped, Hell would boil over, sending out its waves of power to destroy the Earth, and finally her own vigil would end.

She only had to worry about five insignificant lives.

Sheol closed her eyes. “I can wait.”

* * *

 

Kevin excitedly worked away at the tablet. “Yes. That makes sense,” he muttered as he ran a finger over the edge. “It is perfect.”

But as he lifted his head to shout down to Dean that he’d done it, that he’d solved the tablet fragments, his head grew heavy.

Chuck stared at the pages before him. He wanted to move after several days of lying here writing. Every muscle was cramped and he was starving. But the story was all here around him. It was the most exciting moment this week.

Except for one very large problem.

“But if the trial happens, then the story ends.” He shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

His eyes dragged back to the advance scene he’d written and for the first time, he felt a little bit of guilt. To end a young life, even in a story, could be a waste of a plot. If he let the Winchesters go through with it so fast….

Reaching out, he reordered the pages and put one of them in the shredder.

Kevin’s head jerked and he stared at the tablet, puzzled. He could have sworn… he shook his head.

“Cure a demon and sacrifice. Should be simple, combined in the two, but it’s not. There has to be more to it than that.”

He put his head back down and started rereading everything again instead of racing down to speak to Dean. Doubt gnawed at him that he was wrong and there was no way he’d risk their lives if he wasn’t right.

* * *

 

Dean wrinkled his nose at the heavy jasmine and sandalwood smells from the tiny fire pot Sam had found. Meg muttered the spell, looking around the clearing at the same time but not seeing what she wanted. Sam sat half-asleep in a lawn chair they’d dragged along for him, his grey complexion letting Dean know he was exhausted. They’d been working the spell for the last few hours, trying different locations in the nearby parks, until both men were ready to give up.

Dean was cold, hungry, and worried that Sam was about to keel over.

“Maybe there’s no fairies around here,” he said and Meg shrugged.

“There’s always one or two. Little brats don’t like to be too far from the action.”

She started speaking the Gaelic spell more rapidly and as Dean watched her eyes slowly went black. Her voice became more guttural and the fire-pit crackled loudly when she sliced her hand open and dripped blood into the flames.

She was amping up the spell and Dean looked uncomfortably around, worried she was going to summon something else.

A tiny flash of pink light whizzed by his cheek, feeling like a whip, and he winced, swatting at it.

Sam jerked awake as another light raced by his own face, brushing his skin, and Dean whirled to try to track it. Meg watched as well and ended her chant, shaking her bleeding hand out over the fire.

“Come on out, I was the one that called.”

The light exploded outward and they all had to shield their eyes from the brilliance of it. When it cleared in a waft of pink smoke, Dean’s jaw dropped.

Gilda in all her fey beauty was looking as bewildered as when they’d first met. Her large dark eyes went over the entire clearing nervously before focussing on the fire-pit. Dean lifted a hand, ready to say something, and then decided he had nothing.

“We know you. You’re Gilda,” Sam blurted out and Meg frowned.

“Dean and Sam Winchester. Hello.”

Dean nodded, finding his tongue. “You look good.”

She smiled brilliantly. “Thank you. It is because of your brave deeds I am free.”

“I called a fairy that you guys know? What are the odds?” Meg muttered.

“Winchesters.” Gilda glanced around. “Is Her Majesty Queen Charlie here?”

“Ah… we didn’t call you for a booty call for Charlie.”

“Oh.” The fairy looked put out. “Then why?”

Dean jerked his head at Meg.

“She’s not exactly my sort,” Gilda began and Meg rolled her eyes. 

“Not for that.”

“Oh.” She turned as if to leave and Dean reached out to politely stop her. He didn’t want to risk a fairy getting angry with him and he touched her very carefully. But she only turned a smile on him that was a bit dazzling and he stumbled over his words.

“Wait. Meg was calling a fairy to…” He frowned. “Wait, what was it for again?”

Meg glared at him but the fairy was looking at her now, eyes wide as if she had finally realized that she was a demon.

“I see. You’re with child. That is very unusual. Even more than a demon summoning me.”

“That’s why I called a fairy. It’s already weird enough, fairies can’t make it any weirder.”

“You would like an appraisal?” Gilda asked eagerly. “I would love to! I very rarely get to do anything like that anymore. Not since humans got out of the New Age madness.”

“Wait a minute, you ‘appraise’ babies?” Dean gave her a look. “That’s a thing?”

 “Generally they’re of the fae variety, but yes. I assess their innate talents, abilities, pre-dispositions.” She paused and hesitated. “It is a very learned skill.”

“Where were you when Sam was born then?”

“Oh, funny,” Sam muttered.

“Dean, enough. I summoned her, I ask the questions, okay?” She shoved him back.

Gilda faced Meg and stepped very close. “You want to know what your child is worth?”

“I want to know what he or she is,” the demon admitted and Gilda nodded.

“It is very unusual. I can understand your concern. I will need to touch you then. May I?” The demon’s reluctant nod made her smile. “It won’t hurt. It is just fae magic.”

Dean winced in memory of how much fae magic could hurt.

She put both hands on Meg’s flat stomach and stared into the demon’s black eyes while her own glowed unnaturally bright. Meg’s discomfort was clear as she squirmed a little, wondering if she’d made the wrong choice. But Gilda only stared and smiled at her as her hands began to rub small circles. Meg swayed against the power but to the Winchesters it looked like nothing was happening. Gilda’s fingers pushed just a little through the shirt, her smile fading for a moment. 

Then just as fast as it had begun, it was over and she was stepping away. 

Meg almost crumpled to the ground from the sheer force of that power that had coursed through her body but Dean caught her arm and held her up.

“Well?” Sam asked impatiently.

Gilda had closed her eyes as if to absorb the information she’d learned but when she reopened them her smile was broad. “Oh, you have no idea what it is you carry.”

“That’s cryptically helpful,” Dean muttered as he supported Meg’s weight. The demon was fighting to stay upright. “So what’s it worth?”

“She.”

“She wha- ?” Sam blinked and Meg stared as well.

“Her child is a girl. So to speak. Very hard to tell and that took a lot of my magic just to see. Your power is hiding her well and the father’s as well. Like a very large cloak.” She smiled at Meg. “She is unusual. But then, so are you and so is the father. Aren’t you?”

“So what is she worth? Couple grand?” Dean offered weakly and Meg whacked him on the shoulder to shut him up. “What? I’m not thinking black market here but if you get bored and strapped for cash, might be an option.”

“Come on, Dean,” his brother groaned.

“She, oh… This one, she’s priceless.” Gilda looked at Sam instead. “There would be nothing you could ever think of worth trading for her right now. Except for one thing but even then it would not be an even trade.”

Sam fidgeted at her look, not liking how her smile slowly dragged down to a look of pity and sadness.

“What? Is that good or-” Meg was trying to puzzle it out.

“Yes, very good. She’s good. It is only her power that is the wild card. Nearly all children are born good and it is the choices they make,” her eyes never wavered from Sam, “that determine their course of action.”

“So there goes mommy and baby’s day out. No going and beating up the good kids at the sandbox,” Dean said to Meg and she glared.

“Look, if it…”

When she turned to face the fairy, she was gone in a pink shower of light.

“Fairies,” Meg muttered. “ I hate dealing with fairies.”

Sam coughed. “Well, at least that is over with. Can we go now? I’m tired.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here before a unicorn shows up and farts rainbows.” The demon looked at Dean and he put his hands in the air. “Honest truth, it can happen.”

* * *

 

Linda shook her head as she stared around the room. Painted in soft yellows, it was stripped and clean, and it smelled of too much primer. She was spotted with paint, mostly because Castiel had insisted she stop so he could finish burning the wards into the wood, and that had been ongoing for the past day.

He was working on the last when she finally found the time to turn and face him.

“Castiel, have you thought that maybe this is a bad idea?”

“I can protect her here.”

“Really?” She turned to fix the window frame. “You’re staying with her here. For however long it takes?”

He stiffened a bit beside her. “Not exactly. I was hoping you would.”

“I get to play nursemaid to a demon? Nice.”

“She’ll understand.”

Linda crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “You don’t know much about women, do you?”

“Meg is not exactly…” He shrugged. “Once she was a human woman and perhaps by some accounts her demonic preference is female as far as I know but that hardly applies.”

“Now I’m not a big fan of demons in the first place but I don’t think this is a good idea, now that you’ve told me the whole plan.” She rolled her eyes. “Look. I will give you a big hint. She’s not going to like not having an option here. I’d be pissed. You’re doing a good thing, Castiel, but you’re trapping her. Whether you realize it or not.”

Before he could argue, she was painting over his wards again.

He looked around the room. There was a matching one nearby, as heavily magicked as this one, and even his own power felt drained by the force in it. Nothing would get in here easily.

He relaxed a little. She’d be safe here, he knew it. It was beautifully done, from top to bottom. Comfortable, warm and clean. Linda had known what she was doing and he had left it all to her as he warded the place with the most heavy use of magic he’d ever done.

He wanted to believe Meg would appreciate it.

In typical righteous angel fashion, he knew that this was the only thing he could do and Meg would have to fall in line with it so she would be safe.

* * *

 

Both Sam and Dean made sure that the still dazed Meg was in the Hall’s common room, and the alarms were reset before they retreated to Dean’s bedroom to talk.

The argument was already getting heated while they both tried to figure out what to do. No amount of alcohol was making it easier either.

“I don’t care what Gilda the Good Fairy said. There’s just too big a shot for this kid be good or evil and we can’t…. We have to look at all options and the best one is to just take care of it now. Meg might even see reason and find a way herself.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, you’re just forgetting one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“This is Cas. Our friend. We don’t know how he would react. And we don’t go killing babies just because we ‘think’ it might be evil.”

“You killed Emma,” Dean pointed out as he opened his second beer and Sam narrowed his gaze.

“Who was going to kill you. I say we wait.”

“I say we take care of this problem first.”

His brother looked at his hands.  “What happened to us, Dean? I mean, we’re going to kill babies now?”

“Got to do what it takes, Sammy.” He took a long drink of beer and wiped at his mouth thoughtfully. “The war changed and we just have to roll with it.”

“I don’t think the war changed, Dean. I think we did.” Sam’s shoulders squared up and he stood from the bed, facing Dean. The look on his face had Dean staring at him incredulously. “I won’t do this. Of all the things I will do for you and with you, that’s one I can’t do. We’re not baby killers. Not when Cas is our friend and we know this could hurt him.”

“Even if it’s a monster?”

“We’re no better than Crowley or Lucifer if we do this. Let’s wait.”

Dean stared at him, clicking his tongue. “Fine. We wait. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

The bedroom door swung open so suddenly that they both jumped, Dean going for his gun automatically. Kevin stood framed in the doorway and he was almost panting with excitement. The glow in his eyes was almost fanatical.

“I finally remembered!”

Both brothers looked at each other curiously. “That’s great? But remembered what?” Dean asked.

The prophet’s smile was wild and lunatic. “The final trial, guys. I know what it is. And you won’t believe me when I tell you.”

* * *

 

The fairy’s slight attempt at an appraisal should have helped her plan something, anything, to deal with the strangeness she was becoming wrapped up in. But it didn’t. She felt disorientated and angry that no one could give her an answer why she’d been picked.

Meg hated the idea of having no control. 

She didn’t care what side the thing inside her chose. Not really. She was a demon; hearing what she was carrying was good or evil meant little. The fact that she had felt any emotion at all was coincidence, plain and simple. A sort of aftereffect of hanging around the angel too long.

She repeated those thoughts to herself again and again, hoping that sooner or later she would believe them. The same reason why she hadn’t just gotten rid of the creature inside of her. She didn’t know what it would do to her and she wanted to survive.

But for all her angry words about not caring and survival that she spat out at the bathroom mirror, she found that it was hard to believe anything out of her own mouth.

“I wanted to know the why,” she admitted, lowering her head as a fresh wave of anger almost crippled her. But no one knew the why and it made her ready to set fire to the whole damn hall just to feel better.

**“There is no why, my dove. You’re just being used.”**

The soft hum of Oblivion’s voice made her drag her eyes up from the brass faucets to the mirror. 

“You’re…”

_“You know my name, Meg. You may use it.”_ Sheol was in her reflection as if she was standing just behind her, one arm sliding around Meg’s waist. Her chin rested on her shoulder and Meg closed her eyes at the warmth the reflection gave her. _“You do remember, don’t you? Lethe? Its beauty and warmth? The way it healed you so you nearly forgot.”_

The demon flinched and Sheol leaned forward so her lips brushed her earlobe.

_“Until one of God’s angels tore you from me before you were ready.”_ She hummed in her ear. _“My poor dove. Your broken wings were nearly healed.”_

Fingers caressed down her hairline and she was aware of a drugged sensation going through her meatsuit and into her soul. It was nearly like being submerged in Lethe once more. “But I was healing fine before…”

_“Were you? Or were you fooling yourself? Seeing something you wanted so badly instead of what had to be?”_ Her fingers drifted down her waist. _“You don’t want this, do you? Just say the word, Meg.”_

But even when her lips opened, that warm feeling making her want to say yes so long as she could return to Lethe, she opened her eyes and realized that it was just an illusion.

“No.”

Sheol watched her, still stroking her skin. _“You think you can trust them? These humans? When you reached an alliance with them, they left you to the mercy of sweet death, sprawled on concrete like garbage. Even your angel took far too long to rescue you. They have used you repeatedly.”_

Meg’s eyes slid to black and she swayed on her feet.

_“Your angel? You owe him nothing.”_ Sheol stroked her face next. _“He will come to you, Meg, and say he has something to show you. A place of safety he created just for you. But the truth?”_

Meg stared blindly at her reflection as Sheol’s voice lowered and her lips pressed to her ear so that the buzz of the words echoed.

_“It will be his version of Lucifer’s Cage? He is going to cage you in and twist that collar so tight you will be nothing, have nothing but a fragment of freedom. You’re just thing of use and failure to them.”_

She smiled at Meg sadly. _“You will see, Meg, that if you do as I ask and help close the gates of Hell… I will bring you to that place that you so crave. Something they can never do.”_

Sheol was gone when the demon turned to face her and Meg turned back to the mirror.

Why did she want the trials to happen so badly?

Why did her own skin suddenly feel like it was burning?

Turning on the taps, she ran the water ice cold until the basin was filled. Sucking in a breath, she dunked her head in just to cool the pressure and heat suddenly flaring under her skin. It nearly felt like she’d been exorcised again.

Lifting her head out, she whipped her hair over her shoulder and panted for breath as her now numb skin ached and her teeth chattered.

“Meg?” Castiel’s voice should have startled her but after Sheol, little could frighten her now. “Are you hurt?”

Her eyes opened to see him standing just behind her, rain soaked and ruffled. Her own skin was steaming with heat still and she swayed a little, clutching the basin. Blinking away the water from her eyes, she spotted him holding out a small towel for her and she snatched it. Once her eyes were clear again, she ducked under his outstretched hand and headed out of the bathroom.

“Where have you been?”

“I was taking care of some things. Were you worried?” he asked as he followed her down the catwalks and stairs.

“Not really.”

He was only a few steps behind, worse than a shadow and far more overwhelming, and she ran the towel over her soaked hair.

“Winchesters know you’re back or did you trip the alarm off yet?” she continued as she wove her way around the tables. Castiel cleared his throat.

“They don’t need to know yet. Are you sure you’re well?”

“Can’t get any more knocked up or out,” she muttered and she stopped abruptly, causing him to bump into her hard. He stepped back quickly to give her space and Meg turned around, staring up at him.

Castiel looked a little more relaxed than when she had last seen him in the cell. His ruffled hair stood on all ends and he had paint smears on his fingers when she checked him over.

“What have you been doing, Clarence?” she asked suspiciously at that almost fidgety expression. He was hiding something from her.

“I was worried that you wouldn’t be safe here. So I planned something for you.”

“If it’s a severed head I might not be upset,” she said dryly and he frowned.

“Why would I do that?”

Meg rolled her eyes and he held out his hand to her.

“I made something for you. A surprise.”

The choice of words made her step back, staring at his hand as if it would bite her.

Sheol’s warning was so fresh in her mind that she nearly ran backwards.

“Meg? I’d like to show you.”

“What have you done, Castiel?” she whispered, voice tight and her eyes slowly slipping to black out of reflex.

“I created a place for you to be safe. I think you will be happy there.”

He took her hand before she could get out of the way and didn’t seem to notice the way she tried to wrench her fingers free of his grip. The smile he gave her was warm and broad, so unlike him that Meg realized that he really must have done something.

Something that was going to cage her in.


	11. Gravity (When Demons Align)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Castiel’s plans as a type of leash and collar, Meg refuses to see his reasons. Kevin reveals what the last trial is to Dean and Sam, prompting them to turn to both the demon and angel for help. The Winchesters are slowly being pulled into the plans of God and Oblivion, unaware what it will cost if the Trials are completed.

 

> _**[MEME Prompt](http://demonofdiscord.tumblr.com/post/50030798336/you-find-a-cause-and-you-serve-it-im-not-a):** _

**  
Gravity (When Demons Align AU)**

**Part 1**

Castiel knew that he should be careful around Meg; there’d been something wrong the moment he’d arrived. He could feel it in the way she had tried to keep her hand from his but he’d taken her hand anyway to show her what he’d done. It had been a little naive, perhaps, to hope that she’d be glad to see him and to think that maybe she trusted him enough to follow him. 

  He was worried enough to ignore the feeling that maybe he should stop.

He wanted to see her reaction and was hoping for the best as he transported them fast to the tiny safe-house he’d found. The building was little more than an elaborate cabin, like Rufus’, but cleaner and less rustic. It had been perfect. Hidden; just within the reach of civilization and just out of the reach of it to keep Meg and any strangeness from being noticed. 

It had been sheer dumb luck after only hours of searching and he’d thanked his Father for letting him find it.

Keeping his hand through hers as she swayed on her feet, he steadied Meg and waited for her to notice the living room they had landed in. The entire house was warm and smelled of fresh paint and bleach, Linda Tran’s meticulous housekeeping having cleansed it better than any holy water or spell. Castiel turned a slow circle as he waited for Meg to re-orientate herself and caught sight of the older woman nearby.

When Linda saw the wave of his hand, she quickly backed away into the kitchenette.

“Where are we?” Meg asked, trying to balance. Her head ached from going so fast and she had to blink and shake her head to get herself back to normal.

“Some place safe. I found it in the middle of nowhere really. But I’d thought of you immediately and of what we needed to do.” Castiel walked towards the window to part the curtains, taking a quick glance at the quiet landscape.

Meg tried to follow him but found herself wedged in place by that claustrophobic feeling of a trap. Her feet snagged and she cursed, looking up at the devil’s trap painted in white lines on the dark wood ceiling. Looking sheepish, Castiel quickly cracked the ceiling just a little. 

“Sorry, it was to protect Mrs. Tran.”

“She’s here? That’ll be fun.”

“Mm, she helped me.” Castiel looked at her almost eagerly and Meg had to look away.

She could almost feel the collar slipping around her neck now.

He noticed her expression as she took in the sitting room with its bright windows and bright paint, her eyes going up towards the loft overhang up the stairs. The small house was just warm enough to be comfortable against the cold mountain air and he couldn’t feel anything but the stillness of the nearby woods. It was peaceful to be in such quiet and he waited to see if her expression changed.

Meg’s face was utterly mask-like and tense and he recognized that look immediately. The very look she’d given him when she’d been angry at being yanked from Lethe.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“Clarence, what have you done?”

“I wanted you safe. I really think you’ll like this place. It’s very warm and protected.” He let the curtains fall back into place.

“So I’m stuck here. You built me a cage?”

“You’ve not even noticed that I….”

“Stop. Did you build me a cage?” she gritted out.

“I thought you’d like it.” Castiel sounded offended and as she turned around she saw him looking equally put-out with her. “I did it for you.”

“Like it? You’re really bent on keeping me captive aren’t you?”

“I simply thought you could do with more spacious surroundings. A home, not a hideout. When was the last time you had a home?” he asked, trying to wheedle her into a better mood. 

“I’m a demon, Castiel. We don’t need homes or cages. Or charity cases from angels with a conscience,” she spat out as she started to pace. Her ears were ringing as her agitation grew, that annoying ping sound, with her eyes sliding to black and brown and then black again.

“You’re angry with me.” Castiel sighed and shook his head. “I put a lot of work in to this. So did Linda.”

“Sorry if I don’t bend over in appreciation.” She ran her hand over the yellow-tinged walls, nose wrinkling, and she felt the spells that had been fused into the wood. “A fancy cage is still a cage. I’m not staying here.” 

She expected him to yell at her, not say softly, “… Why are you always so difficult?”

Castiel watched her, the urge to force her to sit and see what he’d done to protect her so strong that he had to grip the door frame to keep himself from shaking her. Even Dean wasn’t this difficult most times.

“A gilded cage is still a cage,” she muttered as she turned a slow circle. “Where are we?”

“Colorado. This place was abandoned during a fire but there’s been nothing to destroy its integrity.” He patted the frame as if to prove it to her but Meg was looking out the window again.

“Why are we here?”

“I had thought that— I wanted you safe. I did it for you.” 

“Safe or where you can keep an eye on me by trapping me?”

“Don’t twist this!” His sharpness was so sudden that she jumped. “We don’t have the option of discussing this. It is where you need to be. Where I need you to be.”

“For how long?” Meg snorted and stared out the window. “Swear to Hell, only an angel builds a beautiful cage and calls it protection.”

“I did it for you, Meg.”

“No, featherbrain. You did it because the only other option you had was actually putting a chain on me.”

He opened his mouth to argue but she was gone, teleporting out with the sort of power that sent him a step back. Almost shaking with his own anger, he glanced at the curtained off kitchen but Linda Tran was wisely keeping out of the way. He was on his own.  As always.

Hadn’t this been the right thing to do? Wouldn’t it have kept her safe?

He slammed his palm against the wall and set off after her.

* * *

 

Meg had only managed to teleport herself to the tiny patio, contrary to what she had aimed for. Something snapped in the air, as if she’d reached the end of a rope, and kept her still. Her head still ached from the effort and she grabbed onto a tree to try to recover. When her blurred vision cleared, she was no more than a few feet away from the front porch in a tiny garden. The garden was half-dead with beds of dying flowers and rotted vines drooping over the trellis, and she had the urge to burn it all down. The mist and rain only made her anger worse and she tore one of the rusted iron hinges off the gate as she made her way down the path to the road.

The soft flutter of wings made her stomach turn.

“I wanted you safe.” Castiel’s voice behind her simply repeated his earlier words. Shaking her head, she suddenly wished she could have run further. But this place held her and even as she walked she could feel the way it pulled her to a standstill repeatedly the more she fought it.

“You built a cage, Castiel. I can feel it everywhere. It’s one big trap. It pulls and it chokes.”

“It’s magicked heavily, yes, but not against you. For you. It is because you are angry that it isn’t being forgiving to your… demonic nature.” He came a few steps closer through the mists and she turned around, her boot heels grinding into the gravel. Her eyes kept slicking from black to brown, her agitation growing the longer he stared at her. Castiel looked like the lost angel he’d been in the hospital years ago and she stepped back when he went to touch her shoulder. “Why are you being difficult about this? I did it to keep you…”

“I’m not a possession.”

He blinked. “I don’t want to ‘possess you’. I simply tried.” 

But there was no stopping her as she drew her own conclusions fast. 

“I’m not some human you need to ‘keep’, remember? Free demon and all that crap.” She stepped forward and he backed up a step when he felt the whip snap of darkness slice at him. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this, not your help or your pity, and I don’t want you!”

Something flinched in his expression, a tiny tick at the corner of his mouth, that let her know she’d hit a mark.

“So run back to your Winchesters and let me do what I do best. Survive. On my own.”

“I’m trying to help you. But you won’t let me.”

“The last time you helped me, I ended up dead. Then I ended up pulled away from something that would have let me just… die. Now? I’m about to be hunted by everything in existence! I am not interested in what you’re planning, Castiel. That’s all you angels do. Plan and scheme and…”

He grabbed her arm to keep her still when she tried to walk off. The grip was punishing and her eyes went to black immediately, warning him. Do you think I want to be part of this any more than you are? You are a demon and you won’t take my help. You’re hate-filled and angry and tortured and cruel, and still I’ve tried to help you.”

She snarled. “Don’t be such a human.”

“I have tried to be understanding,” he warned. “To do what I thought best but every time I think I know you, Meg, you change it around. I just wanted to help you.”

“Help me? You can barely help yourself, cloud-hopper, let alone those pathetic wrecks you call your pets. I’m just the lowly demon you lost yourself in a few times and knocked up. That is nothing compared to your righteous man and his cursed brother, remember? I am nothing!”

He let her go as if repelled by the hate in her voice. But who it was directed at wasn’t clear and he felt some of his own anger evaporate the more he stared at her and started to understand.

“You’re wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t paint me with some humanistic crap, Castiel, you won’t like how it turns out.”

“If it keeps you safe, until we can figure out another way…”

“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she said.

“I wouldn’t. I lo…” Stopping himself from saying what he wanted, he looked away and sighed. “Nevermind. I had wanted to help but you’ve turned it into something far more than I meant.” 

“Call it a reflex.” Meg started down the garden path towards the road but he blinked in front of her.

“I’m asking you to stay here, for now.”

“Why? What is so special about this place that you think I’ll want to stay here? Watched over by some guard dog you conned?”

“Because I’m asking you to. Because I know you are frightened and you won’t tell me why.”

Meg crossed her arms over her chest and he reached out, fingers just grazing her elbow before she jerked it away.

“Please. Just for now. Until I can…”

“I’m leaving in three days,” she warned. “I need to get my strength, yeah, but after that me and whatever is in me are splitsville.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to order her to stay, when he felt that prickle up his spine. Someone was praying to him.

_Cas? Its Dean. We’ve got some big news. So drop whatever or whoever you’re doin’ and get back to the bunker. We need you._

Meg had watched his expression change around and something in her shuttered up even further. He only looked at her, hesitating, but she looked away.

“I’ll be back.”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll be ready.”

Something in her cold tone and the way she stood should have warned him but he ignored it, going to those who might appreciate his help.

* * *

 

Death wandered the abandoned park, feeling the power prickling around him like ice being poured over skin. The town all around him was collapsing, falling into a pit of nothingness, but because of his presence this place was still present. It gave him some semblance of relief that his power could deflect that anger seething through the midwest.

“Sheol?” he asked as he came to the edge of a small pond, watching a nearby swing-set slowly being pushed back and forth by a breeze.

As if summoned, she appeared in front of him. Beautiful though her impossibly sad and gentle eyes were now taking on a more deadly light. “Brother.”

“What have you done?” he gestured around with his silver tipped cane. “This place, these people, were not slated to die for some years, preferably when that massive tornado was to come through.”

She gave him a steady look. “I merely need satiation. You don’t mind?”

Death regarded her gravely. “Do not harm those who have nothing to do with your hate.”

“I don’t hate. I am merely tired. And upset. They are at peace.” She turned away and Death stared at the back of her auburn head.

“You’ve lost her, haven’t you? To the angel.”

Sheol stiffened and turned around. “Why would you suggest that?”

“He’s all but hidden her from the world though I know we both can feel her. But touching her? That may be difficult. For us both.”

“He has trapped her and my demon is too proud, too strong, to allow it.” Sheol’s expression was calm and calculating, and he watched her warily. “Besides, I already know what it is going to happen and who will play their part.”

He tapped his cane on the ground. “What are you going to do?”

“If he’s done playing by the rules than so am I. I think it is time I use his favourite pawns for a change.” She turned and walked over the pond, pale bare feet making no ripples as she walked across the water. “Be sure to leave before I collapse this place completely, would you? I would hate to hurt you.”

* * *

 

There was a strange light in Kevin’s eyes that hadn’t faded for the past hour and it made Dean uncomfortable. Sam was too sick and tired to care but his brother saw it. The prophet was nearly fanatical that he knew the last trial by heart, that he was sure it would work. He had spoken so fast that Dean had only managed to get a quick prayer into Castiel before he was overcome by Kevin grabbing and shaking him. For a small little thing, he packed a punch when he chose.

“Do you get it, Dean? It’s the last trial! We can close the gates of Hell! We’ll all be free!” the prophet nearly shouted and Dean winced as he was shaken again. Kevin’s hands nearly tore into his shirt in his eagerness to get his point across.

“Yeah, I get that, kid, but ease up on my nipples will you? They’re don’t like being stretched out.” He brushed him off and looked at Sam, who was reading over Kevin’s scrawls at the table. “Sam?”

“Seems all in order. Makes sense even, when you think about it. I mean, the Hell trials should have something to do with demons.”

“Of course it’s in order. I already told you!” Kevin dropped into the chair across from Sam. “It’s simple!”

“Ah, nothing is that simple, we’ve learned that. We’re not stupid.”

Sam cleared his throat, voice sounding hoarse from too much coughing. “According to Kevin’s interpretation, all we need to do is cure a demon and that runs parallel to sacrificing a cause. Essentially, a demon sacrificing what makes them a demon.”

“That’s annoyingly cryptic.” Dean sighed and gave Sam a look. “Cure a demon?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds too easy.”

His brother shrugged. “Well, sort of. How the hell do we do that?”

“Salt?”

Kevin rolled his eyes and Sam sighed. “No, not cure as in preserve, cure as in alleviate a symptom.”

“What symptom?”

“Their demonness, I guess. Make them mortal.” Kevin flipped his notes over and then jumped when he realized Castiel was standing by his chair. “Jesus, Cas!”

“Not exactly.” But the angel was already staring at the notes. “Demons are not exactly suffering from a symptom. It is an integral part of their being. They never could be totally cured once they made the transition.”

“How long have you been there?” Dean asked suspiciously. 

“I only just arrived but I saw the notes. This is the last trial?” He picked up the pile of papers. “Cure a demon to sacrifice a cause. Technically that is two trials in one.”

“God’s loophole I guess, make sure we’re real devout.” Dean eyed him. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been trying to help Meg. It isn’t exactly going to plan.” Castiel didn’t notice the look the brothers gave each other. 

Kevin grabbed his notes from the angel. “It’s right! I know it is. I can see it all now perfectly. We need to cure a demon. There’s just no real way of knowing how to do it.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes just a little at Kevin’s strange eagerness. “I wasn’t doubting you; it has just never been done to my knowledge. So. Where do we go from here? I assume you want my help in procuring what you need. Ingredients, demons to act as examples.”

“Crossed my mind you could catch us one of Crowley’s men,” Dean snapped. “If you’re not too busy.”

Kevin sighed heavily and they all looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, lazily lifting his head from where it rested on his hands.

“You guys don’t get it! The last trial is to cure a demon. We have one. Meg. She’d be perfect.”

The Winchesters looked at one another before Dean shrugged and went to the nearby bar fridge. “Kid’s got a point,” he said over his shoulder.

“Advanced placement,” Kevin said smugly.

But Sam was watching Castiel’s expression. Something crossed over his face before the angel could stop it and he licked his own chapped lips before finding his voice. “Cas? Do you think Meg would… do this?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t hold out hope to her being agreeable.”

“Thought you two were tight,” Dean drawled as he handed Kevin a beer to celebrate. “Her being pregnant and all.”

“You can assume that my being the father of her child would mean anything to her but it doesn’t. She’s being exceptionally difficult right now.” Castiel exhaled sharply. “And we don’t know what this trial involves, do we?”

“Going to research it out.”

“I won’t risk her life,” Castiel snapped at Dean. The hunter blinked in surprise.

Kevin and Sam glanced at each other, wondering what was wrong. 

“I wasn’t saying that.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Cas, we don’t even know what the trial involves. But if we can at least get Meg interested… half our battle is done. Maybe you can appeal to her maternal instinct or something. Could mean that whatever you two created, loses its demonness too and be born normal.”

The angel shook his head.

Kevin fidgeted as if he wanted to tell them but just as fast as he thought he knew the answer it was gone.

Castiel gave them a defeated look. “I’ll ask.”

He was gone before they could stop him and Dean gave Sam a puzzled look. 

“Get the feeling he really doesn’t want her involved?”

“Yeah I got that.”

* * *

 

Chuck jogged the papers up and down to get them in order, thumbing the papers curiously. They were still warm from the printer and with a happy smile he hugged them to his chest before he flopped down on the couch. Closing his eyes, he sighed and lifted the first sheet up.

A slight movement to his left made him nearly leap off the couch. The man perched on the armchair sighed.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Not quite.” Death set his bag down. “You’ve been very busy, I see.”

Chuck scooted back down on the couch. “Very. Too busy for hallucinations.”

“So I can imagine.” Thin fingers reached out and plucked a page from his grip. Death turned it over and gave it a disgusted look. “Creation. So very messy.”

“What do you want?”

“Mostly to alert you to the fact that you have a very, very angry entity on your hands.” 

“Yeah.” Chuck tossed the pages in a stack on the floor and put his arm over his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable. “You’ve been telling me that.”

Death turned the page around in his hand, and the red line underlining Meg’s name made it clear he saw what Chuck was doing. “This is how you plan on stopping her? Using her own connections?”

“Well, she can’t die and she can’t be reasoned with so….” Chuck shrugged but didn’t remove his arm. “She’s Oblivion, right? She’s too powerful to kill. What is she? Billions of years old?”

“Older. Older than I even. And far more powerful. You do not wish to cross her. She was well within her rights to take control of the situation.”

“So I’m changing the game plan.” 

“This absurd idea of controlling her. How does it even work?” Death shook his head and Chuck finally looked at him, an almost devilish grin on his face.

“I’ve got you interested. Its sort of an interesting story. If you could picture a beautiful mirror being split into shards so that it’s influence is fractional….”

Death rolled his eyes and stood, imposing as a vulture. “Don’t be stupid. I see no good end to this. All this takes is one misstep, from any side. The demon’s offspring may or may not be the end to us. The angel might slip up and be manipulated by his own brethren. The demon may die. But most of it rides on the humans. How utterly stupid to place faith in such creatures that are below us.”

“You’re scared of her.” Chuck rolled his shoulders and faked a snore. “I’m not.”

“You should be, brother. You should be.” Death dusted off his coat shoulders. “However, I am thinking that you are a lost cause in this. Blinded by pride and your past rejection. You’re a child with an ant farm. So I shall simply have to find someone else who will take this threat far more seriously.”

When Chuck removed his arm, Death was gone, the pages with him.

* * *

 

Dean sighed and rubbed at his jaw as he searched through the storage rooms. Something in here had to be of use. After a day at the books, Sam was too exhausted to help him and Kevin was too busy going on some prophet tangent. He’d come here for peace and quiet. He needed to collect his thoughts and think this through, but with each box he went through, the less it helped.

Would it just be simpler to take one for the team and insist that someone chain Meg down? Force her to the trial?

No. For all she’d done, she meant something to Castiel and Dean wasn’t about to hurt him for that. Grudgingly, he admitted that he had owed her for saving Sam as well.

Pulling out another folder, Dean sat down against a wall and put his head in his hands.

What if he lost Sam because he was choosing to trust in Castiel and, to a lesser extent, Meg?

What if all of this was lost?

**_All you need to do is solve a trial. It’s easy. Let me show you where you can do it._ **

He choked back the urge to shout a curse at the walls and thumped his head back on the wall. He was hearing voices. Perfect.

Almost immediately, the wall he’d hit himself against pressed back, and he fell back through the false wall hidden by fake brick. Shouting, he rolled to his feet only to find himself just a few feet down. Rubbing at the back of his now sore head, Dean stood up and watched as the wall fully swung open.

“Oh this is just too awesome,” he muttered under his breath and he let the light pour in from the hallway.

An old room, hollowed out with bars running over the cement walls, had been hidden behind the storage closets.

The place inside smelled of must and old sulphur, chains dangling from the ceiling and large devil’s traps drawn all over the room. Dean stared in absurd wonder at it. He ran his hand over the ash marks that ran over the walls, as if something incredibly hot had burned its imprint onto the concrete.

“Son of a bitch. Jackpot.”

The chill in the air made the smell a little less intense once the door was open. Chains, racks, medicinal tables, things that almost reminded him of Alastair. It was like a treasure trove for that darker part of him, the part that still remembered his time in Hell when he’d been broken. When he’d sliced into souls to save himself.

Dean turned away from the chains and looked at the table where blood rusted tools and vials still sat. When he picked up one wicked double-sided blade, it felt oddly hot and he tested the edge to find it still sharp. Tucking the knife into his belt, he knelt down under the table to check through a wood box.

All that was in it was a film reel was left over inside a broken camera, and old, and when he picked it up he saw ‘66 EX’ written on its worn label. The sealed room had preserved it. Whatever had happened here might have been recorded.

“Definite jackpot.”

“This place is cold,” Castiel said suddenly, causing the hunter to whack his head on the underside of the table.

“Jesus, Cas!”

The angel was standing at the entrance to the makeshift panic room, looking just as perplexed as when he’d left.

“While I admire the comparison, I don’t quite understand why that’s the second one I’ve received lately.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s an expression. Where’d you come from?”

Castiel waved his hand in the air. “Well…”

“Nevermind. You weren’t gone long.”

“No.” Castiel stepped into the dungeon. “This place is uncomfortable. You can just feel the pain that happened within the walls.”

“No better place for demons I’d say,” Dean muttered, pointing out the embossed chains and painted ceilings. “I know I’d be shaking in my boots.”

The angel didn’t respond and he decided to cut to the chase.

“You got news? Come on, Cas, what’d she say?” 

The hesitation wasn’t what Dean had expected. Castiel actually looked embarrassed.

“She won’t speak to me. After you asked me, I stopped where I last saw her.” Castiel seemed shifty and Dean wondered what he was hiding. “She used a banishing sigil, which I didn’t even know she could use, and I ended up in Morocco.”

Unable to help himself, Dean started to laugh and quickly cut it short when he saw Castiel’s face. “Oh well. Any idea why she’d do that?”

“I may have overestimated my importance in her decisions.”

“In non-cryptic English, please?” Dean asked patiently. “Come on, Cas, you got to keep me in the loop here. Especially about Meg and her little hellspawn.”

He took a breath. “I found her a safe house. I used wards and everything I could think of to keep her safe; all of it designed to take care of her. And she took it rather hard. Some of her accusations…”

Dean blinked. “She thinks you trapped her?” At his friend’s startled look he shrugged. “Come on, you angels pulled that green room crap on me and told me it was for my own good. Weird but I get where she’s coming from.”

“This _is_ for her own good. But despite my attempts to convince her, she’s angry.” He shook his head and began to pace, a habit he’d picked up from her. “All I said was “Hello Meg” and then I woke up halfway across the world.”

“Maybe let her calm down a bit. Have you tried apologizing?”

“Why would I do that? I’m not in the wrong.”

“Little bit yeah.” Dean shook his head. “Just… apologize so we can get this show on the road.”

“That would be a lie. I’m not sorry for wanting to protect her.”

“Then figure something out. I remember one time I went out while I was with Lisa and she hollered at me for a good hour for not leaving her a message. She was worried and I apologized though hell if I know what I was apologizing for.” Dean gave a wistful grin at the thought of Lisa. “Sometimes you have to suck it up, Castiel.”

“That seems dishonest.”

“Not if you figure out that maybe she was right.”

Castiel exhaled sharply. “I would have no idea where to start.”

“I don’t know. She’s a demon but maybe just ask. I used to just take Lisa out for a bite and somehow it all worked out but that won’t help you.” Dean kicked the box to the side. “Got a few hours? I need to find some books to give us even a hint of where to start and you can zip around faster than I can. I want to see if I can repair this film so I can see what’s on it.”

* * *

 

Sam groaned as he rolled onto his back, trying to ease the ache in his muscles. Despite what Dean thought, he never really slept. He could lie for eight hours, staring at the ceiling, and not fall asleep. There was power radiating within him, something strange and wonderful and terrifying. Whenever he lifted his hands up in the air, he could have sworn he saw glittering light echoing his movements.

“Must be what being on acid is like,” he muttered before rolling over onto his stomach to check the time. His brain was begging him to sleep and parts of him felt numb. 

“What if I die doing this?” 

Burying his head in the pillow, he wondered if that would be such a bad thing.

Something brushed through his hair, like a gentle hand soothing him, and he sighed, closing his eyes.

* * *

 **  
**It was boredom that sent her wandering around the property. She found all of Castiel’s wards he’d created, the spells almost sewn into the very perimeter. With every attempt, she knew she couldn’t break them but it didn’t stop her from trying. The property had been dead for so long that grass was only just now starting to grow in patches and she found the whole thing depressing.

Which, for a demon, was saying something. 

Linda Tran was somewhere in the house, hiding out from her likely. Since Meg had banished Castiel in a pretty impressive display of light, the elder Tran had stayed out of her way. Not that the demon cared. She’d almost trashed the living room in her frustration and after the second day had ticked by even pacing did her no good. She stayed in the living room and the dead garden, trying to use what power she had to summon someone who could help her.

But the only people who would come to any call she made were the ones she didn’t want.

_Why the hell had he brought her here?_

The stocked kitchen gave her only a little wiggle room in her anger and she’d raided it as best as she could. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told the Winchesters being a demon burned off most of the calories but no amount of sugar or food did as good a job as alcohol.

And damn it if there wasn’t a drop in the house. He knew her better than she’d thought.

Stalking around the house, Meg felt more and more caged the longer she stayed still. She hadn’t been up into the loft overhead yet either, not liking the feeling she had that if she did she might get stuck up there. 

Eventually, she gave in to her own curiosity when there was nothing else she could do. Meg climbed the stairs, trailing her fingers up the walls. It seemed like the deeper she went into the house, the stronger the wards became and her own power was angrily trying to push back. Until she finally came to a closed door and she was nearly propelled backwards when she opened the door.

Meg sucked in a breath she didn’t know she needed as she stepped into the room. 

What had her cloudhopper _done?_

A small room, warm and bright yellow, was what remained in the very back of the house. High windows gave it a glow from the rising moon, and she leaned against the wall after flipping the switch. Even though the light wasn’t strong, it let her see that the room was rearranged into a makeshift nursery. Old antique furniture had been dusted off and put to rights and she stared around the room. 

“Oh damn,” she whispered as she ran her hand over the wall and felt the wards just under the paint. The protection here was incredible, the power radiating off from the walls almost repelling her but then accepting her just as quickly. It almost felt like Lethe within these walls; it was protective and comforting.

It was familiar.

He’d done it for her.

Some foreign and uncomfortable emotion made her stomach curl with heat.

“He was pretty intense about this,” Linda’s voice intruded on her and Meg flinched as the woman slipped into the room behind her. “I never thought angels could be excited by these things. It was like it gave him a purpose. Though you should thank me; he had some strange colours in mind.”

“Why did he do this?” Meg muttered, barely listening to her.

“What any father would do.” Linda started to fix the shelves that were still being put up. “Not going to lie; I was a little less than enthused.”

Meg didn’t answer as her fingers felt another ward; this one she didn’t know but it was larger than the others.

“You know, I was terrified when Kevin was coming because I was on my own and had met his father on a writing tour, so he wasn’t around, and I…”

“Sorry, I don’t do the chick thing. No chit chat or bonding moments.”

“I get it. Big tough demon, right?” Linda rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t scare me.”

Meg smirked at the walls, not minding her bravado. It would be a little too easy to snap her neck but hiding from Castiel would be hard if she killed someone he liked.

“Why won’t you let him help you?”

The demon shrugged.

“You find a cause and you serve it. I’m not a cause, not a worthy cause. I - when he looks at me, the way he looks at me, he sees something intangibly good and that - that isn’t -” Meg felt herself shudder because it was true. Castiel looked at her differently than anyone else had. Someone who was her enemy had been kinder to her than even her own leaders she’d devoted herself to.

“Who you think you are?”

Meg whirled and clamped her hand over Linda’s throat, hauling her close before pinning her to the wall. Her eyes went black and she bared her teeth.

“I’m a demon, human. Do you know what that means? Hell is my home. I am far older than anyone knows, and in that time, spent years in the pit, years of torture and doing what I do best. I don’t remember what being human was like. He doesn’t understand that. And neither do you.”

Dark eyes narrowed right back at her to let her know that she hadn’t intimidated the tiny woman at all. “You think you scare me?” Linda laughed around the tight hold on her throat. “I’ve had demons in my head, torturing me and threatening my son. If you were like them, you’d be killing me by now. You haven’t yet.”

Meg let her go with a disgusted sigh.

Linda rubbed at her throat.

“It’s strange. If you were as unaffected by him as you claimed, wouldn’t you be using his devotion as leverage, instead of trying to push him away?” She settled her arms over her chest and slowly walked from the room. Before she closed the door, she gave the room a once over. “Like it or not, you’re going to have to get used to being what you really are. Whatever that is.”

She slammed the door and Meg rolled her eyes, making a face. Humans always tried to normalize what they didn’t know. Normal life?Impossible for demons. Whatever was inside of her wouldn’t get that either.

The kid would be lucky if she lived a day.

Her daughter. The fairy had said it was a girl.

_“She is unusual. But then, so are you and so is the father. Aren’t you?”_

Castiel must know she was having a girl. She’d seen the signs around the room. The neutral paint was bright and yet there’d been small decorative things that had been done, either by him or by that human, to the furniture and the bedding. How he knew when he’d said he couldn’t feel her wasn’t clear. Maybe he’d tricked her or something.

_What the hell was he doing to her?_

All that stupid human crap wasn’t going to happen. No stupid human ideals behind it, no cuteness, no silly hopes and dreams. Those had been left behind long long ago. She’d get it out and then be on her merry way, a regular old mockingbird leaving her young to get raised by someone else.

Except as her hand tightened on her stomach and felt the throb of power there, she knew that that wasn’t going to happen. Whatever protective instinct she had told her that because her life was so connected to this child’s. They were all so entwined together that it was impossible to get free.

She slowly sat down on the floor, leaning against a toy box, and brought her knees up to her chest. Reaching out, she fished a stuffed toy out of the box and debated on destroying it just for kicks. Damn thing would deserve it.

The stuffed unicorn seemed harmless but what it meant made her drop it to the floor and put her head in her hands. No one but her and Sam Winchester would know what that meant. Even she didn’t like what it could mean.

_What the hell was wrong with_ **_her_ ** _?_

If she left, she’d be fighting for her life. On her own. And this time bogged down by something she knew she’d not be able to get rid of. Crowley would find her, that she had no doubt about, and those hallucinations of Sheol would just grow until she went mad and burned herself.

Whether it was the angel or the unborn girl inside of her, either way she wasn’t going to escape.

 _Like it or not,_ she thought with a wry smile, _Castiel had a point._

He could help her.

He’d built this all to help her.

Unlike anyone she’d met before, he actually wanted to help her.

Meg pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around. Whatever it was…

“No. Her, this will be her room. She’s real. This is real.” She shook her head, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “This is real.”

* * *

 

_It was like being pulled from underwater, the slow and steady tug that woke him up. His first blissfully deep sleep in weeks and someone wanted him awake. Sam buried his face deeper in the pillow and reached out to grab another to put over his head._

_Until he felt soft fingers stroking his hair, combing through the long strands gently._

_“I’m dreaming,” he whispered. His eyes felt heavy and he sighed._

_“Yes,” a woman murmured._

_“Jess?”_

_The fingers stilled but then renewed the petting. “No, Sam Winchester. I’m just a dream. You still miss her though, don’t you?”_

_No harm talking to a dream; not when his sore muscles kept him so lethargic he could die in her arms and be happy. “I do. Everyday.”_

_“Mm. It is hard to love and watch things fall apart. And you love your brother so very much.”_

_The hypnotic lull in her voice drained him further._

_“Wouldn’t you do anything for him?”_

* * *

 

Meg’s eyes grew heavy as she sat in the moon-lit nursery. “I don’t need to sleep,” she muttered just as she nodded off.

* * *

 

_Sam felt a strange twist in his heart at the mention of Dean. “Yes. Anything. He’s my big brother.”_

_“Such loyalty.” The fingers in his hair slid over his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know peace, both you and your brother? A chance for utter peace.”_

_He gave a drugged chuckle. “We’re hunters. That never happens.”_

_“It will. Once you finish the trials.”_

_Meg sat up straight against the wall and blinked, confused as to what she was seeing. The nursery was gone and in its place was a dark little room with only a bed and a desk. Sam Winchester was lying there, cradled in a woman’s embrace._

_Sheol blinked at Meg, aware of her but not stopping._

_“You can save the world,” she murmured in Sam’s ear. “Just by staying loyal to what you are meant to do.”_

_The feel of that loving but powerful gaze nearly burned into the demon._

_“All of you.”_

* * *

 

Gasping out a cry, Meg woke out of her trance. She was cramped and uncomfortable. Sore from the strange position, she yawned and struggled to open her eyes. When she managed to focus, it was to find Castiel standing over her, partially hidden in the shadows.

“That looks awkward.”

Meg cracked her neck, that absurd dream already fading fast. “Tell me about it.”

He nervously held his hands out to the side. “Please don’t banish me again. I was hoping we could talk. It is the third day. Technically.”

Picking herself up gracefully, Meg eyed him and tossed the stuffed unicorn back in the box. “About what? Or are you just here to pay the electric bill?” she drawled.

“We’ve had a misunderstanding and I want us to be back to how we were. To give us some normalcy.”

“Normal?” Meg choked on the word. “We’ve never been normal, Clarence, remember?” She swished her hand over her face and wiggled her fingers. “Me demon, remember? You angel.”

She poked him in the chest and he frowned. “Stop that.” He rubbed at the spot she’d poked. “I took Ms. Tran back to Garth for now. I had the feeling you didn’t really want her company.”

“She’s not the worst one you could have lent me. You could have left me with Dean.” Her eyes rolled. “Ugh. Then I’d be back to suicidal.”

He gave her a look and then gestured at the room. “Did you hate it so much?”

“No.” Immediately she back tracked. “It’s okay, I mean.”

He smiled to himself before holding out his hand. “Do you mind if we leave for a while?”

“Why?”

“I thought you were going to leave anyway,” he countered smugly and Meg squinted up at him. 

“Don’t get cute. Where are we going?”

“Are you hungry?”

* * *

 


	12. Gravity (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Castiel’s plans as a type of leash and collar, Meg refuses to see his reasons. Kevin reveals what the last trial is to Dean and Sam, prompting them to turn to both the demon and angel for help. The Winchesters are slowly being pulled into the plans of God and Oblivion, unaware what it will cost if the Trials are completed.

**Gravity (When Demons Align)**

**Part 2**

Sitting on a park bench, Death stared at the Heaven of a man who had died only yesterday, watching the reunions of family and friends. He didn’t really see the point. The punishment and reward system God had put into place hadn’t really helped in the first place. Humans still misbehaved atrociously and all for the silliest of reasons.

He picked another chip out of the bag and popped it into his mouth, savouring the bite of the flavour.

“I was told you were here. Looking for me.”

He looked around slowly to see Naomi. Immaculate, cool and fierce; the perfect angel.

“Ah yes.” He patted the bench. “Please sit.”

“I’d rather stand.” The angel was edgy, staring at him as if he was about to Reap her.

“I am not here to cause any problems but merely to alert you to something you should know.”

“I haven’t seen you here in centuries. You hate Heaven as much as you hate Hell.”

“I don’t hate either. I am merely indifferent to them,” Death tapped his cane on the soft grass. “I am going to tell you eight words. Then I will be gone to serve my purpose.”

Naomi fidgeted. “Eight words?”

“Yes. Very simple ones.” He looked up at her blue eyes. “Remember what God ordered the angels to do.” 

“What he—?” Before she could finish, Death was gone, leaving a bewildered angel behind.

* * *

 

“Welcome to Elysium Pizza. What do you want?” the bored waitress demanded. Still bewildered by the abrupt change in scenery and the fact that girl wasn’t worried about their sudden arrival, Meg stared around the restaurant. 

Castiel cleared his throat and smiled at the girl. “Medium. All meat. Protein levels you know; very necessary for growth.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Gotcha, it’ll be right up.”

“Nice service. I could almost go for some tequila to deal with how happy she was,” Meg muttered and she saw Castiel watching her. He looked almost too large for the narrow booth they were sitting in. “So. Want to explain the place? I mean, we already moved furniture around, no need to get the pizza.”

Grunting, he shuffled in his seat, trying to get comfortable, and she watched.

“Is it the wings that make it hard for you to sit normal?”

“The what?” He was startled by the change in conversation and she gestured at his shifting. Shrugging his shoulders back, he tried to look insulted. “After how many thousands of years, you honestly think I can’t maneuver wings, corporeal or not?”

She bit back a grin. “Touché. Why are we here?”

“I need to speak to you and I thought this would be a neutral ground to start.”

Meg blinked and looked around the old pizza parlour. “Cute. I almost got the feeling you were taking me on a date, hot wings.”

“That wasn’t completely my intention.”

Her eyes snapped back to him. “Completely?”

“No.” Oblivious to his own meaning and her stunned look, he sighed and rubbed his hands together. “I wanted to apologize. I am still very used to doing as I see best.”

Meg blinked. Angels did not apologize as a rule to demons. Ever.

The last time he’d done so was when he realized he’d pulled her away from Lethe.

“And in this? I wanted you safe but I was wrong to simply drop you there when I had known how unhappy you were that we didn’t even trust you in the bunker most days. I hadn’t meant this as some sort of push to trap you. I was worried and following what I thought had to happen. It won’t happen again.”

“Fine.”

He jerked his head up to look at her. “What?”

Meg shrugged. “You’re pretty much saying I’m free to go as I please? No leash?”

The demon could tell it was costing him a lot to nod. “Yes.”

“Good. Because if you ever do that again and don’t tell me what is going on, I’m going to make you wish you chose a female vessel, you got me?” she warned but this time there was no real heat behind the words.

“You’re threatening me so that means…” Castiel could only stare at her with a little bit of awe. “Are you forgiving me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Warning you.”

“You are forgiving me.” He relaxed. “I can’t believe that Dean was right.”

Meg gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

The arrival of the pizza saved him in time and he smiled happily at the girl who had brought it out. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, no problem.” She looked a little creeped out by his relief and Meg shook her head once she left.

“So what exactly did you want?”

“I wanted to ask you for your help. But you need food first then we can visit the Winchesters.”

“Is this your way of nesting with me, Clarence?” She eyed him and the pizza warily. “You’re buying me dinner? What’s next? Bottle of warm milk and a blanket? Snuggles with Castiel?”

“Hardly. You’d destroy the bottle and then smother me with the blanket if I tried.” He looked up from his slicing of the pizza, putting a piece on the plate before her. “Am I right?”

“Scarily accurate,” she admitted. 

“I just hate to eat alone. It looks ridiculous when an angel does it considering I don’t need to. I imagine it was how you felt before you became, as you said, ‘knocked up’.”

Instead of being insulted, she actually smiled a little without meaning to. “You know, I was wrong. You’re actually a little cute when you’re trying to put up instead of shutting up.”

He simply stared back at her until she started to eat.

* * *

 

Both Winchesters jumped when the alarm system went off, blaring so loud that Dean nearly toppled over one of the second level shelves. Sam looked up from the table to see Meg and Castiel walking overhead on the grated catwalk. Shaking his head, he rolled his chair over to the computer to disable the alarm.

“You fly like an old lady,” Meg muttered. “I’m sure Dean in that hunk of junk could have driven faster.”

Castiel squinted at her. “You’re mocking me.”

“Gold star, pretty boy. Took you only ten seconds this time to figure that out.”

“Flight isn’t exactly how you clearly perceive it. I have to navigate over several obstacles and focus my intent into a dimensional gap,” he started and she turned, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Let me make fun of you in peace.”

He gave her an impressive glare that only made her smirk.

“There’s the… whatever you two are,” Dean said as he joined them. He eyed Meg before turning to the angel. “Did you ask her yet?”

“No.” Castiel cleared his throat and walked ahead of them. “I wanted to bring her here to show her some of what we’ve found. So she could understand.”

Dean fell into step beside Meg before loudly asking, “How’s the fairy dust?”

“The what?” Castiel swivelled on his heel to look at Meg who was glaring at Dean. 

“Fairy dust.”

“You are dead, Winchester. First up on my rack.”

He merely grinned. 

“Meg? What is he talking about?” the angel demanded, waving Dean away. She rolled her eyes.

“You weren’t around. I needed answers so I called an expert on babies. Dumb and Dumber helped.”

“A fairy. You trusted a fairy but you wouldn’t trust me,” he said, stalking towards her. Tiny as she was, she simply jutted her chin out and glared at him though she took a single step back into the railing.

“You took off to find answers and you still haven’t told me if you found any. Just planted me in the middle of nowhere, remember?” she snapped back. Castiel stared down his nose at her and she smirked. “Remember?”

“You wouldn’t trust me but you trusted some fae?” 

Looking up from below, Sam saw Dean’s gestures to come help and shrugged. Meg and Dean were on their own.

“I never said I trusted her. I need to know what the hell was going on with me!”

“You could have called for me.”

“You only show up for Winchesters anyway.”

“I thought we were through arguing,” Castiel snapped. “I swear you are doing this deliberately.”

“Okay, unresolved sexual tension fetishists, referee coming through.” Dean cut between them. “Come on, Cas. It was just a fairy and you know Meg is just trying to get you angry.”

“Did you let a fairy touch you?” Castiel demanded, ignoring him. 

“And give her a value on the little bundle of blasphemy,” Dean offered helpfully and Meg shot him another ‘you’re dead’ look. Castiel’s intake of breath was sharp.

“You put a price on our child?” 

If he could have actual feathers they would have bristled.

Meg was too dumbfounded that he had actually put the possessive to both of them. Their child? “No. What the fairy told me was there was no price I could put on her. Why would I?”

He deflated just a little. 

“So it is a girl.”

“Yeah.”

Dean actually found himself getting uncomfortable as the pair stared everywhere but at each other. “You know what? I’m just going to go… do some reading. Feel free to look for something helpful. Or do something helpful.”

Castiel waited for him to be down the stairs before he looked at Meg again. “A girl.”

“Far as she knew. Fairies are earth magic so she could be wrong. I don’t like them much but I needed to see if someone could find out what,” she pointed at her stomach, “this all means.”

“And?”

“Not much of an answer. She was cryptic as every goddamn fairy is.” Meg shrugged her shoulders as if to forget it but Castiel was looking at her strangely. She walked off and abruptly changed the subject. “So why did you bring me back to Plaidville?”

He started to walk beside her through the archives, keeping an eye on her. She caught him staring once or twice, felt his hand brush her side but she kept moving. 

“It is about the trials to close the Gates. They only have one left.”

“Oh?” She ran her hand over a dusty shelf and followed him down into a storage room. Castiel ran his own hands over the walls, searching for something. Meg watched his face. It was hard to count how many times she could see that he was straining against the confines of his own vessel. Vaguely she wondered if he saw the same thing when he looked at her.

The wall suddenly swung open with a bang and he stood to one side. “I wanted to show you this as I have a feeling it would be involved.”

Meg walked by him and felt a cold thrill of dreadful fascination go up her spine when she saw what she’d walked into.

If the house in Colorado had felt like a protective embrace, this place felt like a stranglehold ready to rip her to pieces. Unlike the humans, she could see the walls vibrating with dark magic and smell years of old blood still reeking from its otherwise clean surface. The chains, the hooks and tethers, the racks…

“Alastair would have been in heaven,” she muttered. Castiel searched for and found a small gaslight, setting it on fire and putting it on the wall.

“I didn’t like this place,” he said. “But I thought you should see it. To know…”

“What? That I could have spent a few nights in here?” she asked dryly. 

“The last trial is to cure a demon,” Castiel finished as he stood behind her. The sight of the chains sent a chill up his own skin. “And you are the only one they know who won’t rip their throats out.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” Meg touched a chain  and wrinkled her nose when it singed her fingers. His words suddenly sunk in sharp as a knife. “Wait what?”

“The last trial is to cure a demon.”

“And you thought of me?” She walked in a small circle but he could see her tension in every move she made. “Can’t say I’m flattered.” 

“No. Kevin thought of you. They asked me if I would ask but I had been considering alternatives.” He leaned against one of the pillars. Meg looked over her shoulder at him, dirty blonde hair spilling over her back as she picked up a knife.

“And those are?” He looked away and she nodded. “Right. There are none.”

She stepped away from the wall and looked around the room. “It’s never been done before. I remember Abaddon at one time telling me how the humans and angels tried to think of ways to cure demons. Trust me, she was one gloriously bad ass demon with a world of old knowledge.”

Meg ran a finger over the dusty railing. “Though why I’m not sure anyone would want to cure my kind.”

“Maybe they had faith that demons could be saved.”

The look she shot him was anything but agreeable. “Come on, Clarence. I had over the max. limit of torture over the centuries. There’s little I have or haven’t done to get my way. And you think I can be saved?”

“You don’t think you deserve it?” He casually crossed his arms over his chest. “It would be your decision and I can’t force you to it. “

“Yeah because that’s happened so far.” She tilted her head. “You want my consent.” Her eyes went black and she fixed him with a grin. “How nice.”

Castiel didn’t rise to the bait. “Meg, if you could repent and be cured, would you?”

She smiled, almost wistfully. “That’s the problem, Cas. I’ve lived too long for a simple cure to make me repentant to the core. You know that pain you think I live with? The guilt you all seem to think a demon should have? I don’t really have it. Never have. I am what I am. Dealing with the sudden human conscience, a clean soul, wouldn’t help.”

“You would be pure.”

“I wouldn’t be me. I’d be a shadow. And you know that.” She stared at him and after a moment, he nodded. 

“I know. It is why I didn’t suggest you. Why I wanted to ask.” He looked at his shoes. “I didn’t want to force you to a decision. This is yours.”

She debated on it. An instant way to say fuck you to Crowley. To get it all done with. She’d laugh all the way to victory.

But something about it made her not want to risk it. There was a strange wrongness about it.

Her hand slipped to her stomach and Castiel watched, catching the absent touch.

“And I don’t want to risk her either. Not for this.”

Meg shook her head.

“I can’t. Even if I wasn’t carrying the kidney bean around it’s against everything I would do. It’s not who I am, to just let the Winchesters pour salt in the wounds. Literally.”

“Very well.” He moved away from the wall towards her and Meg gave him a confused frown.

 “Sure you don’t want to push it. Get a shiny new girl to handle, all sweet and innocent? Cutesy and all wishwashy about living the good life? Being a pansy and screaming about how I deserve to be loved?” She was being sarcastic but Castiel shook his head.

“I would want you to be as you are. Thorns and all. Everything. I never wanted you any different.”

Meg blinked in surprise. Not only that he wasn’t going to push but that he seemed relieved by her decision. He looked as if everything that had weighted him down was gone.

“Really.”

“Really. Would you want me any different?”

Just to tease, she took a while to answer, eyeing him up and down until he fidgeted.

“I guess not.”

Castiel shook his head, exasperated by her. “We should tell them. They’ll have to find another demon.”

“Good luck, Crowley will have decided to keep all things Hell-related from their radar….” She stopped, and turned, a wicked smile on her lips. “Oh, now there’s a thought.”

* * *

 

Kevin was a little less than happy about the change of plans. As Castiel spoke to the Winchesters in low, hushed tones, Kevin stared at Meg across the library table.

“You would have been simpler.”

“I will rip your throat out if you say that again,” she answered perkily and Kevin shook his head.

“Don’t you get it? If you were purified, somehow, then you won’t be dragged down to Hell with all the other demons. You’d be free and whoever you’re carrying would be free.”

The demon gave him an odd look. “You don’t really believe even with the Gates of Hell being shut that anyone is going to be free, do you? That I haven’t thought of that? You really don’t know me, kid.”

He opened his mouth to ask what she meant when Dean sat down on the table to the left of Meg.

“So. Crowley? That’s your counter-offer.”

“Yep.”

Sam shook his head as he sat next to Kevin. “But another demon, a black-eyed one, would be easier to get.”

“Seriously, you guys learn nothing.” Meg put her hands on the table and felt Castiel behind her like a shadow. “If there is anyone, anyone, who could get out of Hell, one way or another, it is Crowley. He’s done enough ass-kissing and grovelling to get his way to the top. What makes you think he can’t do it again?”

Dean looked at the table and then at Sam. “What do you think?”

Sam’s eyes went heavy lidded. “I don’t know.”

But even as he spoke he felt that strange intoxicating warmth he’d felt before that eased his aches. **Do what you have to do, Sam. Complete the trials.**

Strangely, Meg was staring at him as if she’d heard that voice too and he stared back at her so hard that Castiel actually took a step forward.

“Sam?”

“We trap Crowley.  It will give us time to find the cure. Has to be somewhere in here. Thousands of years of knowledge.” He rapped his knuckles on the hardwood. “But how can we get him? I haven’t seen a demon in weeks.”

Meg smiled. “Leave that to me. He won’t come to you guys but me? Give me a month.”

No one missed the way her eyes almost glimmered eagerly at the thought of killing Crowley.

* * *

* * *

 

_Four weeks later…_

Castiel bottled up his frustration and focussed it into fuelling the search for the demon cure and helping the Winchesters. It would have been easier to stay with them, avoiding Heaven and Hell all together until they had Crowley and the cure.

It would have been easier than flying off to find her all the time and watching her from the shadows.

But he couldn’t help it.

There wasn’t a day that he didn’t go to watch over her from a distance, and even then he would find time to visit her. He’d learned to stay his distance though but he wasn’t sure why it seemed to make her even more volatile. Meg wandered all over the world to find what she needed, while the Winchesters stayed and researched and hunted with Kevin at their side. Castiel divided his time, his interest, between them, but didn’t go against his word to her.

He wasn’t going to cage her though there were times when he wanted to grab her just to keep her still.

But the latest in her long line of contacts had him ready to intervene as he watched her work him over in the basement of an old Michigan library.

It was an old demon, powerful and remarkably loyal to Crowley. Castiel hadn’t recognized him from his place hidden in the shadows. Most of his attention was on watching Meg as she drew the demon into her trap.

Even though he was tired of chasing her, even he had to admit the way she drew in and trapped another demon was masterful.

“Crowley put the word out that he’d give us some nice promotion for your head on a platter, Meg,” the demon snarled as he threw another punch.

Meg took it to her cheek and Castiel clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from going in.

She hadn’t changed so much in the past weeks that he could see. But when he saw her dodge a swipe that came incredibly close to her stomach, he actually stepped forward.

Meg’s taunting laugh made him stop.

“Come on, Marcel, how bad do you actually want it?” she taunted before standing up and slamming her hand into his cheek.

The bone crunched under the blow and Castiel saw a flash of silver that buried itself into the demon’s sternum. Just enough to cripple him, not enough to kill him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the demon went to his knees at her feet.

Meg moved fast, wrapping a collar and chain around the demon’s neck. A set she’d taken from the Winchesters that in the past four weeks had seen a lot of use. Dodging another blow, she quickly wrapped it around one of the iron water pipes and jerked hard.

Almost immediately, the demon was weighed down and cursing furiously. But the wards and symbols etched into the metal made it impossible for him to move and she finished binding him.

“So. Let’s make this real simple,” Meg said as she dragged a chair in front of the tethered demon. The angel sword was still embedded in him and she reached out with a boot to press on it lightly, causing the demon to howl. “Where’s Crowley’s actual hideout?”

“Hell,” Marcel snarled and she sighed.

“Try again. Harder. You know what I meant.” The blade was pushed just a little deeper. “He has a base. An actual one.”

“Why would I tell you that?” He spat out a mouthful of black blood. “A demon who has rented herself out to angels and humans as a personal whipping girl. You’re a pet, Meg. You’re disgusting to us.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m not hearing a location. It’s been a process of elimination as to who knows what. You’re last on my list. And you know my reputation.”

Something shuddered through the demon as the wards on the chain started to glow. Castiel blinked.

“Sometimes getting new allies finds you toys you never thought you could play with,” she said. “Tell me.”

Slowly, as if it was being dragged out of him, he started speaking in low, guttural Latin. Meg’s head cocked to the side. “Really?” She gave a shrug. “There’s a surprise. Crowley likes those industrial towns.”

She patted Marcel on his blond head and jerked the sword out of his stomach, causing him to scream. “Thanks, precious.”

Without bothering to listen to his pleas for death, she unchained him and let him fall to the ground. Not caring that he was free, she left the basement while sheathing the blade at her side.

Castiel slowly stepped out of the shadows and looked at the demon. Marcel trembled instinctively at the sight of him and closed his eyes. The angel simply looked back before he put his hand over the bruised face. The light that filtered through him slowly and painfully exorcised the demon.

* * *

 

“I don’t get it, Sam.” Dean ran his hand over the slew of post-its they had sprawled over the coffee table in front of the television. “I mean think it through. A demon’s weaknesses are salt, iron, exorcism, holy water.”

“Maybe it’s not in their weaknesses, but their strengths.”

“What? Being pains in the asses?”

Sam gave him a frustrated look and for the twentieth time in the day debated on telling him about the dreams he’d been having. Of possible peace. Of ways of curing a demon. It was why he was fighting so hard to keep it together while with each passing day he was sure he might be dying.

Instead, he picked up his fork and popped a piece of lettuce into his mouth.

“Demons revel in their darkness.” Castiel’s voice was sudden and both of them jumped on the couch. “Well. The higher ones that is.”

“Thanks for the input. Maybe we can clockwork orange him then,” Dean said as he wiped up the spilled beer that had drenched his lap. “How goes the Meg watching?”

“She has Crowley’s location. I suspect she’ll be back here momentarily.”

“Meanwhile, a month has gone by and all we have are some rituals but nothing concrete that this will work.” Both brothers flipped the books shut. “Great. Just great. Meg outdid us. Meg.”

“How is she looking, Castiel?” Sam asked. “‘Cause you look tired.”

“She moves fast and lies low. When I do catch up to her, I have found it best that I not bring up very much. She’s preoccupied.” The angel stood in front of the television, blocking the Spanish soap that Dean had been half-watching. “We spent most of the time arguing.”

“Maybe you could just get her into a long sex coma and she won’t have the energy to argue with you,” Dean suggested, trying to see around the angel. Waving him out of the way didn’t work.

Castiel frowned. “I’m confused. How exactly would that work?” Dean simply stared at him and slowly a look of understanding finally crossed his face. “Oh, I see. Sex, am I right?”

He thought it over. “I would need to have quite sexual marathon though. She is a demon and would be hard to exhaust to such a point, so I would be gone for days until…”

“Ugh,” Sam put his fork down. “I was trying to eat.”

“I was kidding, Cas,” Dean said, equally put out.

Castiel blinked. “I knew that.”

Sam looked down at his book, a translated text from an old medieval hunter called Thomas the Elder, and squinted. He’d picked up the book without really realizing why. It was from the Crusades, when hunters had become soldiers, and had been translated through the years.

Without actually seeing the pages, he flipped them rapidly until they stopped and he heard a voice in his head murmuring for him to look. Dean and Castiel continued to talk over him but he stared at the page until the words slowly became clear.

“Hey, get this.” Both of them looked over and he swivelled the book around. “In the Crusades, during the Siege of Acre, there were hunters for both the Christian and the Muslim causes that banded together to hunt. What side they’d joined was just a cover for them. The demon Belial, one of Lucifer’s first fallen, had his own small army decimating each side, taking down as many hunters as they could.  Until Thomas captured Belial and for two weeks he put the demon through trials to learn the secrets of Hell.”

“We’ve done the same thing…”

“Yeah but on the last day, he came out with a mortal man who claimed to be Belial. The soul had apparently consumed the body and the human he possessed had been sent to Heaven. Belial fought for their cause after that and died at the age of one hundred.”

Castiel stared. “But how? Angels could never cure demons. It is why we were ordered to destroy them.”

“Humans maybe had more imagination,” Dean teased and the angel glared at him.

“It says it was a series of rituals. By cleansing the soul and offering forgiveness while demanding the demon repent and making them repent.” Sam rubbed at his eyes. “I’ll have to get Kevin to help me translate. The ritual is written in some sort of code. But I do recognize something about angels. So we likely need you, Castiel.”

Dean looked at him. “Where the hell did you find that book? We spent days looking!”

Sam sheepishly looked down. “It was at the bottom of my last pile. We’ve gone through so many for even hints of it happening.”

“Helpful.”

“I can iron out the details.” He looked away and grabbed a napkin for a makeshift bookmark. “Demon is ingredient number one, right?”

“Yeah sure.”

Castiel gave Sam an odd admiring look. “Well done.”

“Look. Just… get Meg here,” Dean said. “If we can at least get Crowley out of commission, we can put Hell into a ruckus and that’ll make me happy.”

Castiel nodded and was gone in the next moment.

Sam shook his head and made a whip-crack noise. Dean glanced at him.

“Was that at me or Meg?”

“Both. He’s so damn eager to help.”

The tension in Sam’s voice wasn’t like him and Dean looked at him curiously. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just… going to get some sleep again.”

“Least you’re sleeping better. I’ll shut everything down and check on Kevin. Worst thing you did was letting him know your WiFi trick.” Dean began to pack up the books and as Sam wearily made his way up to his bedroom, he shook his head.

“Talk to me, Sam,” he whispered to himself before he followed him, arms full with occult text.

* * *

 

Crowley stared at the map. All sightings of Meg and Winchesters had been documented. He kept all of his demons away from the Winchesters. Meg was erratic and he’d sent out his best to hunt her down over her slow but steady path, and each of them had been killed. Either by her hand or by Castiel’s, if Crowley was any judge of patterns.

She was sending him a message; Lucifer’s loyalist was coming for him and she wanted a fight. Which he was more than willing to give her as long as he was able to get something else from it.

But he also hadn’t forgotten that mysterious offer all this time.

He’d just rip that abomination out of Meg and he’d be given something he wanted. Absolute power.

Almost gave him the shivers just thinking about it. It was an easy thing too. Just rip out a baby and hand Meg over.

He still had some threads of power from that woman and he intended to use them.

“So why the hell is it so bloody hard to find her?” he asked, leaning over his maps. 

* * *

 

Meg wasn’t hard to find, not for him. She’d already made it to Arkansas by the time Castiel found her about to hitch a ride with a trucker. The trucker had taken off the moment he saw the tall man in the trench coat glaring at him and left her in a cloud of dust. She’d had her mouth open to say something when he clamped a hand over her shoulder and immediately transported them back to the bunker.

“You get so bossy when you have to travel,” she muttered at the doorway. “Didn’t even say: ‘Hey, Meg, how’re you?’”

“I know. They’re expecting us.” He walked behind her into the bunker, disabling the alarms with a wave of his hand. He knew the system so well now that it hadn’t taken much to figure out. But the entire bunker was quiet and closed down.

“Looks like we’re late to the party.”

Meg slipped around him to the common room and he followed at a distance while checking over everything. Grabbing Sam’s half-eaten salad off the coffee table, she sniffed it and then threw it in the garbage. “God, Moose by name, Moose by nature.”

“They’re asleep,” Castiel said, eyeing the stairs.

“Go figure. Humans sleep.” She plopped down on the couch. “So we wait.”

Carefully, he sat down beside her and felt remarkably awkward when she stared at him. “You found the location.”

“You were there, weren’t you? So why ask?” she pointed out and he looked at her. “I felt you.”

“How?”

“I don’t question. I just did.”

“I was worried about you and you have been almost stand-offish. All I did last time was ask if you were feeling any side-effects.”

“No and no. It’s a kid, featherbrain. I’m not going to die,” she grumbled. She swivelled on the couch and watched as he rested his head back on the couch. Aware of her look, he looked over at her and she tilted her head. “You’re worn out.”

“You’re concerned?” He looked back up at the ceiling.

“Something like that. Can’t have you ditching out on child support payments.”

He rolled his eyes and closed them, sighing heavily. “This is all too complex.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that. Closing the Gates of Hell?” She whistled. “That would have thrown anyone for a loop.”

“You know that’s not what I was referring to.” Blindly, he waved his hand between them. “This is what I was referring to. Us.”

“Nice to know you care, Clarence.” She cleared her throat. “Did you know that you haven’t tried a thing for a month when I know you’ve been stalking me? I think you have the self-control thing down to perfection but I thought you learned some initiative.”

His eyes opened just as she moved forward on the couch. She slid over him, one slender leg at a time, and he blinked, startled by how close she was. “So.” Sitting back on his lap, she smirked. “Make up sex for the past month?”

“That would be nice…” Realizing what he’d just said, Castiel gulped. That was nothing like what he should have said. He squirmed to try to get free as her hands moved down his chest. “We shouldn’t.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” she drawled lazily as she drew her coat over her shoulders and tossed it on the carpet. “The biggest oops already happened.”

Her mouth covered his and he mumbled against her lips as she kissed him. When she broke away, his eyes were wide and taking her in.

“If the child thinks of it as a threat,” he stammered as she unbuttoned his shirt for him and pressed her mouth to his collarbone.

“Better make me real happy then, Castiel. Show me your A-game, angel. Better yet… I’ll show you mine before you show me yours.”

His eyes stayed on the ceiling as she began to lick and bite her way down his chest, pausing to sink her teeth into the slight indenture of his ribcage. Hissing, he arched his back a little and felt her laugh against his skin. The low hum of it sent prickles of heat through his body as she lapped at his skin, the sharp edge of her bites leaving marks. Her hair brushed over his stomach and without thought he closed his eyes and pushed his hands into the soft strands, feeling the slow release of his trousers being opened.

When he managed to open his eyes, Meg was staring up at him. Nervously, he reached out and tugged on an errant lock of her hair.

“We’re still dressed and on the Winchesters’ couch. That seems wrong.”

Meg’s smirk was just shy of evil. “Better hold on tight, angel.”

He was about to ask what she meant but the way she lowered her head back down had him grasping the couch tight under his hands and closing his eyes again.

* * *

 

He should have moved them, Castiel thought an hour later. If Dean had found them defiling his favourite spot on the couch, he doubted he’d be let back in. But there had been something oddly nice about staying beside Meg. For once she’d actually liked to be near him afterwards, though he figured it was because the couch didn’t offer much by way of space versus some secret want to hold him. As it was he had to keep himself braced up against her, awkwardly wedged between her hip and the arm of the couch.

The doze she was in made it easier to read what was going on. Aware that she was seemingly lost in thought, Castiel shifted on the couch and pressed his hand over her stomach. There was a definite curve to her belly now, nothing large but enough to give him a sign that she was changing more. Strange that he could feel her now. Both of them. Even without really using any power, he could tell that Meg’s existence was tethered by their daughter and the connection was as deep as his. 

That connection was just as twisted around him and the demon and he knew he was strangely content with that new arrangement.

He flicked his eyes up to her face to see her eyes shut. She was shivering but didn’t move away from him. He fished his coat off the floor, not as affected as she was, and quickly tucked it around her body. Meg murmured, groggily shifting around so she could bury herself against his arm and he held her a bit closer.

Maybe this was what his dream had meant. He could have moments of peace between those longer stretches of chaos.

His fingers went onto her stomach and he realized he could feel the tiny tiny heartbeat of something alive within her.

Instead of getting up and dressing, instead of going to wake Dean so they could begin, he stayed beside her.

Angels were not about creation. They were soldiers. Warriors of Light.

Demons were not about creation. They were tortured souls. Agents of Darkness.

Between them, they had actually created life and for the first time, Castiel felt genuinely overwhelmed. His hand curled over her hip and he shifted Meg around. He slipped down the couch and pressed his head against her breasts, feeling her fingers card through his hair.

“Hey, no using me as a mattress. You’re heavy.”

He shook his head and didn’t speak, hands holding her hips tight. He could almost hear that impatient heartbeat now, as loud as his own vessel’s.

“Lapful of clingy angel. I like.” 

Meg made an odd sound when he suddenly drew her down the couch underneath him, mouth seeking hers desperately. He only saw a flicker of doubt in her smirk but he closed his eyes and kissed her, pressing her into the cushions. The delighted moan she made was enough to make him throw the coat out of the way and forget how overwhelmed he’d just felt.

* * *

 

It was hard to reconcile the hours before with the more abrupt, almost calculated way they were both readying themselves with now. Neither spoke a word about the time they’d spent alone. Not to Dean or to Sam. It had been difficult to look Dean in the eye and say they had just arrived but somehow Castiel had managed. The eldest Winchester didn’t question it

“Have you been dreaming?” Castiel asked Meg as he passed her.

“Not lately.” She looked over at him and fixed the blade holster on her belt. “Everything just sort of faded lately.”

He nodded and turned to help Dean.

Meg watched him and the human work together and wondered if he’d realized just how strange she felt.

Not exactly happier. She was sure she was the same.

But some of the weight of the past week’s had been lifted when she was so close to finishing off Crowley and getting some form of revenge. Still, there was something more that was giving her a sense of purpose. No more dreams, no more Lethe aftereffects. She was coming to terms with what she was now.

Though exactly what that was was unclear.

“You good to go?” Dean asked as he cocked his shotgun.

“Good as I’ll ever be. You know the plan?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Can’t say it isn’t stupid.”

Meg smirked. “When you think of something better, let me know.”

* * *

 

He was predictable, Meg decided as she made her way up the driveway.

She had seen the old abandoned textile plant at the outskirts of the city and knew the instant where Crowley was holed up. It was a typical demon method; humans didn’t like these places and angels wouldn’t be bothered to look. It wasn’t exactly well hidden though. Especially with the large Enochian ward painted on the front wall.

Two of the demons patrolling the front stopped short as she walked calmly towards them. It had been a long walk up the drive and she didn’t doubt that Crowley knew she was here by now. Shifting the bag she carried, she eyed the larger of the two demons.

“Take me to your leader,” she jibed dramatically and he stammered.

“You… you’re dead!”

“I get that a lot. Tell your boss I have something for him but he has to have something for me. Go on.”

The first one ran off to do as she ordered, leaving the last one behind. Meg gave him a pleasant smile as he circled her, and she discreetly pulled her angel sword out. “I actually need you to do something for me too.”

He fidgeted, clearly not trusting her. Which, how could she blame him? 

“What?”

She waited for him to step just an inch closer before she swivelled on her heel. The angel sword sliced neatly into his throat, sliding in so easily that the spray of blood only caught her hands as she jerked it out and then shoved it into his heart. The demon opened his mouth to scream and she shoved her fist between his lips to shut him up until he sagged lifeless to the ground. Smirking at the twitching body, she quick;y dragged him over towards the rear dumpster and quickly teleported to the ward. It almost hummed with power but she ignored it, swiping her blood drenched fingers through it and drawing a new one.

Whatever was still in the building might weaken Castiel, but not out here. There was no way she would go inside anyway. It would be another death sentence. One eye on the distant roadway, she hefted the canvas bag over her shoulder and made her way back to the front of the warehouse.

More demons were waiting for her.

“Meg. You know, for such a cockroach you do like to make an entrance,” Crowley said as he walked down the loading ramp towards her. She tilted her head and looked around. Of course he had more demons at his back. “You’re alone?”

There was an odd, relaxed tone to his voice. As if he could barely keep his eyes open let alone his attention on her but Meg wasn’t about to question it.

“I really scare you, huh? All of you, one little old me.”

“Insurance. Your pet angel might be around for all I know.”

“Ah. I kept him out of the loop for this one.” She dangled the bag at him. “I don’t think he likes my survival skills.”

“He’s not trying to domesticate you? The whole barefoot and pregnant thing isn’t as appealing as you thought?”

“Maybe to you it would. One day, Crowley, I’m sure you might get someone remotely interested in you. Maybe even an angel,” she countered and something actually tensed in his expression. “I didn’t come here so you could try to show me how big your ego is. I came here to negotiate.” 

“Nice to know you don’t change, not really.” Crowley walked a slow circle around her and Meg just kept herself ready to move. “So why did you call me?”

“For once, we can do each other a favour, Crowley.” Her head tilted. “Don’t you think?”

“You’ve been killing my men.”

“You set them after me. You don’t care about them anymore than I would. So let’s cut a deal.  I’ll give you something and you get off my back for a few months. You think I care what you do to the Winchesters? I do this on my terms.”

“You’re helping Dean and Sam Winchester by getting them to close the Gates of Hell. That’s pathetic, even for you.” He sneered. “That angel must be very good in bed to make you forget that.”

“Don’t be jealous, Crowley.” She looked away. “I’m not going to let them close the Gates. The last thing I want is to go back to a place where I’m about to be slaughtered. So. I decided that the one person who can help prevent it might help me.”

“Why this desperation to get me to stop following you, hmm?” He turned around and watched her dig into the canvas bag. “And what could you have that I want?”

Meg threw the tablet onto the ground between them. Even from the distance, Crowley could see what it was.

“Winchesters don’t lock it up tight. Makes it easy for a girl like me when an angel’s wrapped around my finger.”

Crowley stared at the tablet hungrily but didn’t move toward it.

“That’s my good traitorous little girl.”

“Don’t get patronizing, Crowley,” Meg warned. “It’s simply enemy of my enemy is my friend for now, all that. They hit enemy list for me with the gate closing and sending me back to hell schtick.”

“Let’s say I take this tablet. What’s to keep me from killing you?” He stepped towards the tablet and picked it up, tucking it into his coat pocket. “You really make the worst moves, sweetheart.”

“You know, I was hoping you’d say that.”

There was a loud explosion and Crowley jerked as a bullet buried itself into his chest. The demons surrounding them jerked and looked around.

“A sniper?” Crowley gave her an unimpressed look. “What is this? The grassy knoll?”

“Not exactly.”

“You know, this makes killing you all the more fun.”

He went to move, only to find his feet firmly in place.

“Bullocks.” He waved his hand at the angels. “Boys!”

Before any of them could get more than a step, there was a singing sound of light exploding. Meg smirked and shielded her eyes, listening to the howling sounds of the demons. When she looked up, it was only her and Crowley, alone in the parking lot. The bodies of the demons were even gone.

“That’s _my_ boy,” she muttered.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Crowley demanded. “I am the only one who can keep the tablet from those Winchesters.”

Meg appeared to think it over. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Coming from behind the dumpster, Dean smirked at the demon as he rested his shotgun on his shoulder. “Crowley.”

Meg looked at the hunter. “Not bad. Been practising with a potato gun?”

Dean ignored her. “Man, that trick is too much fun to use. Devil trap bullets and shot gun shells. Love my family.”

Crowley leaned towards him but he was tethered in place. “Oh you little whor…”

Snatching Dean’s shotgun out of his hand, Meg slammed the butt of it against Crowley’s face and sent him to his knees. He groaned, spewing up blood. Dean looked at her and she shrugged. 

“I get tired of that.”

Dean made a face as he bent and began chaining Crowley up quickly. “Come on, King. We got a nice throne for you to sit on for a bit.”

“You’re making a very big mistake.” Crowley struggled against the chains. The wards embossed on the metal glowed in reaction and he groaned in pain. “You’re trusting her! After all our back history!” 

“Yeah. Quite a history. Cas?”

The angel appeared between them, fingers flexing and stained with blood. He looked at Meg and she shrugged, waving her fingers at the demon. Castiel ran his eyes over her and then Dean to make sure they weren’t hurt. Without question, he grabbed Crowley by the scruff of the neck to take him back to the bunker and disappeared.

Dean glanced at Meg as he made sure to pick up the tablet.

“Not bad, eh?”

Meg frowned. “That was way too easy.”

“Yeah well, I take what I can get. We got Crowley, Sam’s got a start on the ritual, and we can do this.” Dean walked away to the Impala and after a moment Meg followed him down the driveway.

“Way too easy,” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

 

Sheol watched and smiled as the Impala roared down the highway. Crowley had been confused by her presence, by what she had done to distract him, and it had played out perfectly. 


	13. Hurricane (When Demons Purify)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sam nears the end of the trials, Castiel and Dean both hope that he can recover from the damage. Knowing what it will mean, Chuck’s desperation to stop Sheol starts to unravel. No one is prepared for the consequences. Suddenly, Meg begins to oppose the trial being completed while Kevin uncovers more of the tablet’s meaning.

> _[Meme Prompt](http://teaandchess.tumblr.com/post/51075706674/sheol-relishes-in-explaining-her-plans-to-force) _

**Hurricane (When Demons Purify)**

**Part 1**

Dean kept an eye on Meg, giving her short, quick glances as he drove down the highway. It wasn’t hard to know what emotion it was that was troubling him.

He was jealous.   
Not of Meg, not even of Castiel. Not one hundred percent anyway.

He was jealous that of all of them, Castiel was going to experience the one thing Dean knew he might never know now. 

An angel… that was messed up. Dean shook his head and slowed the Impala down to round a curve. An angel had knocked up a demon.

He’d sometimes pictured it differently, when he had hope. Once this was all over that was. As the years passed, maybe Sam settling down as a Man of Letters and him settling into a new role, like Bobby’s. Guiding young hunters, making them his family, with Castiel always around because they were family, they were part of each other’s lives.

Now? Well, he had to think beyond that.

Not that in any way was Castiel’s supposed fatherhood going to do  much to change the situation they were in. Beyond some slight protectiveness towards her, Castiel actually hadn’t changed. Neither had Meg. 

But Dean would have been stupid not to know that something would change.

Meg, for instance.

It was hard to picture her being anything but cold-hearted and evil. She was still both to him, always would be. But maybe Castiel’s influence would eat the bitch cells.

“So.” Dean glanced over at Meg as she reclined back in the passenger seat of the Impala. “When should I be planning a baby shower?”

“You even think about pink streamers and onesies, Dean,” she didn’t look away from the window, “and I’m going to make you wear the onesies and run down a highway filled with lonely truckers.”

He went a little pale and focused on the front window. “Right. Here I was thinking that Junior in there would make you all maternal.”

“I bet.” She arched her eyebrow at him. “You even suggesting we go get facials and have a girl’s day out, I’ll break your neck.”

Dean shrugged. “Gotcha.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, unable to take the tension. “So.”

Meg exhaled sharply. “You really want to do the small talk thing or do you want to actually say what you want to say?”

“Yeah, I do.” With a jerk, he wheeled the Impala over to the curb of the road and slammed on the brakes. Meg stared out the front window even as he leaned towards her. He was right in her face, angry, wanting her to understand he was going to threaten her. But she only arched an eyebrow and didn’t look at him. 

“Now listen. I don’t like you. Got no reason to after what you did to my dad, to Sam, to Jo and Ellen. Now you got something going on with Cas. My best friend.”

She grinned at the front window but didn’t look at him.

“And I swear to God, if you do a thing to hurt him or betray us, I’ll gut you. Unborn Abomination or not. You’re dead. You might be after we close the gates anyway and I won’t miss you. We’re gonna truce but that doesn’t mean I have to trust you,” he threatened, breath brushing her cheek as he tried to let his threat sink in. Meg rolled her eyes up to the roof of the car and then looked at him.

“You done? I’m getting hungry.”

Dean blinked, unprepared for that. The demon simply smirked, clearly knowing how much she’d thrown him off by not responding to his threats. He settled back in his seat and stared at her, confused.

Meg closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. By the time the Impala rumbled down the highway again, Dean realized she wasn’t about to make small talk so he simply blared Led Zeppelin. Even his low singing and humming didn’t goad her into responding.

* * *

 

His fingers dug again and again in the paper bag, and with great relish Death popped pickle chips into his mouth. The parkland he was overlooking was pristine, wild and beautiful. It was also just over the magma chambers in Yellowstone Park, and here he could feel the power throbbing. How much death would occur if it managed to explode finally would be slightly amusing for him. He already had the tallies in his head.

The slight swish in the air let him know that one of his Reapers had arrived.

“Sir.”

“Hello, Tessa.” He crumpled the bag under his fingers after the last chip was swallowed. “I have an assignment for you.”

“Sir?” She kept just behind him. Out of respect and fear, he knew.

“The Winchesters need to be watched. We are about to undergo  bit of a crucible and it will be played out exactly how it needs to be.”

“One of them is to die?” she asked and he looked over his shoulder  at her. Her long dark hair was waving in the wind.

“You seem concerned that it is to be Dean Winchester. Hardly.” He shook his head. “You need to be less attached to the special projects. No, Tessa. I need you to prevent any one from taking either Winchester. No Reaping. Even if they die. You’ll understand shortly.”

She looked away. “Yes, Sir.”

* * *

 

Sam was lying face down on his bed, his eyes open but sightless. The papers thrown around his pillows held thousands of words, all in near unintelligible scrawl. Books were laying on the floor, opened and bookmarked, and the chaos in the room was unlike him. Castiel sighed heavily and waited.

At the sound, Sam jerked and leapt off the bed. “Cas! How long have you been there?”

“A few minutes. You are very tired.” The angel looked him up and down. “And glowing.”

Sam looked at his hands but they were the same flesh tone as ever. “No, I’m not.”

“Not that you can see.” Grabbing a few sheets of paper, Castiel eyed him. “Maybe it is because you are nearing the end of your trial.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He smoothed his hand down his face, feeling the scratch of his stubble and the hollows of his gaunt cheeks.

“These are your notes?”

“Yeah.” He had to shake his head to focus. “Kevin and I went through it. As far as we can tell, to cure a demon, you need to Punish them until they redeem themselves. So…. Punishment. Kind of like making them say a million Hail Marys.” 

“I didn’t expect that. What’s the punishment?”

“Forcing the demon to relive all they’ve done. A sort of, uh, slow motion rewind. Except this way, they suffer as their victims, not as the torturer. It’s a spell. Not a really complicated one, but it’s the physical. It’s going to hurt.” Sam looked away.

“That’s all it is?” Castiel sounded unconvinced. “What do you do at the end of it?

“That one I’m stuck on. But Kevin thinks it is piercing the heart of the demon with a weapon made holy. In order to live, the demon willingly gives up what they are. So I’ll just bless a knife in holy water.”

Castiel shuddered. “Suddenly I’m glad Meg was no longer an option.”

“Yeah about that?” Sam grabbed a new shirt and shrugged it on. “How do you know she won’t be thrown into Hell with the rest of them? I assume Hell is just gonna call all its residents home.”

“She won’t leave. She’s bound more to,” he winced, “me.”

“The kid?”

“Essentially. A sort of… tie. I don’t know how it works but I can feel it.” Castiel moved out of the way for Sam and they started down the hall. “I’ve put Crowley in your dungeon for safekeeping.”

“Not loose, right?” Sam asked over his shoulder, missing Castiel’s eye roll. 

“No. Chained.” They rounded the corner to the storage and Castiel reached out to put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam?” He waited until the younger Winchester stopped. “You are very weak. Damaged and very close to death. While I understand your want to do this, the real reason that is, I want you to consider how much pain you’ll put Dean through if you die.” He thought it over. “Again.”

Sam gave him a weak laugh. “Better me than Dean.”

The angel stared at him. “You’re risking your eternal soul, hoping this turns out?”

The smile he received was bitter. “Better my soul than Dean giving up hope to ever having a normal life back. I gave that up. I don’t think he really did.” He turned away, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

Castiel watched him enter the dungeon and exhaled. Angels had no souls. It was part of the reason why Castiel found the entire idea of soul-mates both tragic and yet utter nonsense. He had his true friends; he loved Dean and Sam, there was no question of that. He would sit and watch them interact and privately hope one day he could have that incredible sort of bond. Where nothing mattered but helping each other. Theirs was so strong that it had thwarted an Apocalypse of all things.

Uncomfortably, his thoughts turned to not only the Winchesters, but Meg and their child.

Crowley’s loud, “Fucking Christ, you!” snapped him out of it and he sighed, following Sam into the cold dungeon.

* * *

 

Kevin stayed bent over his tablet pieces and shook his head. “This is weird.”

Impossibly, there was more to the tablet. But as clear as it had been, it felt as if his ability to decipher it had slowly left him. The words blurred and shook and he had to take short breaks just to get a letter out. Still, what had he collected had been the start of something else. The tablet came with, of all things, a disclaimer.

“Would have thought God would have wanted the Gates of Hell shut,” he muttered. “But these look like warnings.”

He drew his fingers along the lines.

“If the other parts weren’t instructions, what are they?”

* * *

 

Chuck rolled onto his back and sprawled on the couch. It was strange. He felt a weird sort of… otherworldliness. For the first time in a long time, he felt as if he didn’t ‘belong’ in this body. It felt too small, too tight, too tense. He longed for a spark of warmth. He felt…

_Trapped._

“What did you do?” he whispered, reaching down to grab his tumbler of whiskey. He took a long drink just so he could feel the bite of liquor burning his gut.  

From his place in the armchair, sight unseen, Death twisted his fingers in his lap. He wondered if it was finally time to really wake Chuck up from his deep denial. But at the sight of Sheol also standing nearby, watching them both with a hint of triumph on the curve her red lips, he stayed seated. She took a few steps and lowered her mouth to Chuck’s. 

Though he couldn’t see her, his mouth opened at the brush of contact. Her eyes travelled over his face and Death saw Chuck’s face tense.

“It is time, brother, to pay the piper for what you’ve done to that which you love.”

With a sizzle of electricity in the air, she was gone and Death saw Chuck’s eyes actually begin to water. His face was afraid beneath the drunken stupor, the unshed tears making his eyes glimmer.

_What had she done?_

* * *

 

“I want an hour alone with him.” It was the first thing out of Meg’s mouth when she and Dean arrived back at the bunker together. No hello, no insults. She didn’t care what the last trial was about or what it would do. She wanted Crowley’s blood. Only Castiel’s patient interference had blocked her from barging through and he kept her in the common room.

Once he was sure she wasn’t going to dart away, he looked down at her. She glared back and he squinted his eyes a little. “No.”

“I think I’m owed it.” Meg shifted her weight and tried to push past but he was like a rock.

“Owed it?” Dean dug into the fridge to look for beer. He popped his head up over the door. “And you decided that how?”

He cracked one open and tossed another to Sam. His brother gave it a look and then set it back down on the counter. It made Dean look at him curiously but Sam was leaning against a shelf as if it supported his entire life, let alone his weight.

“Things he did to me. I earned some pay-back.”

“Did to you?” Dean shrugged. “Sorry but I think we win on this one.”

“Didn’t realize torture was a competition. He killed some friends of yours. Poor you. Bet it happens a lot. Hell, I’m pretty sure I coined how to use that against you both.” Both brothers glared at her as she approached Dean. “But considering I’ve had knives put in places you can only dream about, a year of keeping him from finding out much, and then dying because of him, I think I’m owed it. Remember, Dean? Surviving torture is all about remembering what you get to do to the person doing it to you.”

Dean stared down at her for a moment before something passed between them. Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “All right. One hour. And if you kill him, I’m putting you in his place.”

Castiel muttered something under his breath and stalked out, while Sam only stared at Meg sleepily.

“You know he’s going to try to get you to kill him. Or get you close enough that he can do something to you.”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

Shaking his head uncomfortably, Dean looked at Sam instead. “Gives us time to organize you. Get you all ready for some havoc.”

* * *

 

Crowley tugged at the chains that had him tethered to the floor. He had never, ever, been trapped quite like this. He’d almost be proud of the boys if it wasn’t that he was damned pissed about it. The sigils and wards in the room burned, zapping what power he had, and as he twisted to try to look around the chains snapped tight.

“Bloody hell.”

The click of heels on the cement made him tense up. “Yeah, that’s the idea.”

“Whore.”

Something slammed into the back of his head; hard and without any thought to whether it destroyed his skull. Bright sparks of pain lanced over his vision and he shook his head to clear it.

Meg came into sight. “Crowley. Winchesters gave you their best accommodations, eh?”

He spat out blood. “Well, we all don’t get the first class hamster cage.”

She smirked and cocked her head on the side.

“So. You’re here to soften me up? Before they start on something for their trials, I wager. That is what this is all about, right?” Crowley demanded. Meg turned around and walked to the trays of instruments that were stacked against the wall. Something in her silence made him nervous. “You’re here to play bad cop, Winchesters are good cop? Whatever that means for them. I’d prefer something wearing Dolce if they want to pump me for information.”

“Nope.” She picked up a wicked looking scalpel, turning it so it shone in the light. His eyes bugged out as she turned and whipped it through the air. It embedded into his thigh to the hilt and the iron began to burn as it worked into his skin. The surprised scream he gave made her smile. “This is just for me, you smarmy dick. No motives. Just to make me happy.”

She picked up another blade. “And I have a long way to get to real happy.”

* * *

 

Something about Crowley’s screams made Dean uncomfortable enough that he went outside of the bunker and stuck himself in the Impala. They had hours before dawn, which was when the timing for the trial would begin, according to Kevin’s notes. An hour with Meg shouldn’t kill Crowley, and he knew they were trusting her a lot. But if she learned from Alastair, he also knew she’d be all about self-control.

That was something they shared.

The rustle in the passenger seat of the Impala made him jump and just as quickly relax.

“Damn, Cas. You seriously need a bell.”

The angel shrugged. “It wouldn’t do much good.”

They sat for several minutes, the awkward silence getting thicker and thicker between them, until Dean finally turned over in his seat.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” He eyed him. “I can almost feel the wheels turning.”

“Something about this is just too simple.” Castiel sighed and Dean remembered Meg’s earlier words about it being too easy. “Of all the trials, why is this one so easy? The final one?”

“You think something is up?”

“I don’t know. If I had some other contacts, I could perhaps use them as reference. But I don’t. If I contact Heaven I risk all of you.”

“Heaven might not care about me and…” Dean smirked. “Ah. You mean Meg and your little bundle of sin.”

“I mean all of you. After what they had me nearly do to you, I can’t trust them.” Castiel leaned back in his seat. “It isn’t just the tablet anymore, Dean.”

“Yeah speaking of which, you’re sure the angel tablet is safe? You’ve been hanging around us and Meg for a while.”

Castiel smiled as he looked around the interior of the Impala, at the console light on Dean’s face. “It is in the safest place I know.”

The silence between them was awkward and, hesitantly, Dean leaned closer to the angel. His voice was low, as if he was afraid they were going to be overheard.

“Can you… I mean, I need you, Cas.” Dean blurted out and the angel looked at him. “I can’t save Sammy from what is happening to him. Even I can tell that it might kill him to finish this. And after all these years, after everything we’ve done, I can’t lose him again. I was supposed to protect him. I swore to my dad I’d protect him.”

Something hitched in his voice, a broken note that hadn’t been there in years, and Castiel tilted his head. Dean, like Sam, had learned to bury his emotions. But to see him so close to showing him what he felt, that Dean was trusting him in that again, made him nod. Tentatively, he reached out and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I can do my best.”

* * *

 

Crowley gasped for breath, his tongue still burning from the holy water Meg had force-fed him. His fingers were healing after being broken with meticulous care and the cuts that had gone up the side of his face were slowly healing as well. Sitting on a folding chair just out of his reach, Meg looked immaculate in comparison to his blood-soaked clothing.

“Our hour’s almost up, Crowley,” she murmured. “Going to miss me?”

“I’ll see you dead the minute I get free,” he warned. “The Winchesters get they want, I’ll be free. Guarantee it.”

He almost squirmed as the last of the holy water burned his tongue. “I am the master of a deal.”

Meg stood from her chair and slowly began to gather up the variety of tools she’d used on him. “Yeah, sure, Crowley.”

Suddenly she was in his face and her grin was wild. “Why do you think you’re actually here? Huh? Tea party and treaties?” She patted his face hard. “Oh no, you ugly bastard. They’re going to use you as the main ingredient. They’re going to ‘cure you’ of all that demon you possess. You’re going to be human.”

He tensed, caught off guard. “You’re lying.”

The naked fear in his voice was what she wanted.

Meg stepped away, picking up a knife. “Not likely.” Her hair, now darker from natural colouring, spilled over her shoulders. “You scared?”

“You’ll willingly let them close the Gates of Hell for the sake of screwing me over?” he hissed and she almost giggled. “Are you fucking insane?”

“Likely. Be worth it just to watch your face.” She turned and reached up to pull on the lever. It forced the chains over his head so he hung in the centre of the room. Though his body shrieked with pain, he focussed on Meg. He caught sight of a flash of skin when her silk shirt rode up. Her belly was just slightly curved and he decided to try for what he did best.

“So let’s say they do ‘cure’ me.” Crowley twisted in the chains. “And it works. The Gates of Hell slam shut. All demons go back to Hell or evaporate into nothingness. And when I mean all, I mean you.”

Meg had her back turned to him but he saw her nod.

“You go zippy back to Hell, leaving a comatose meatsuit behind. With just that little Abomination left behind. Inside you. I’ll be human, so I won’t be in Hell. Knowing Castiel and his rather erstwhile need to protect all things helpless, he’ll likely raise the bastard himself.”

Meg picked up another knife and cleaned it.

“So I’ll bide my time. I’ll wait. Play the good little human for the boys and for the angel. I’m good at that.”

He turned around in the chains in a mockery of a dance. “Then, when your precious little thing grows up and gets real comfortable, I’m going to torture it. Make it love me and then make it suffer. Maybe even fuck it while I torture it. Until it cries and wonders when I’ll finally kill it. I’ve got centuries worth of skill on my hands. I’ll find every button I can and eventually it will scream.” He leaned his head forward and stared at the back of her head. “Just like you did.”

The only sign she’d heard him was the slight twitch to her fingers. Crowley waited for something, anything, to show him his words had struck home. But Meg simply wheeled the instrument trays back to the corner and turned on her heel.

“You just forget one big, big problem with that sinister plan of yours.”

He looked at her and she smiled.

“You always talk a lot when you’re really scared.”

Crowley snapped out a string of curses at her but she left the room. Along with Castiel, Sam was waiting just outside, his skin grey and heavy bags lining beneath his eyes. Meg eyed his shaky frame with a confident grin though Castiel watched her. 

“Have fun.”

“I’ll make sure he will heal,” Castiel muttered, putting his hand on the door. Sam nodded and quietly retreated back to the archives to gather his supplies.

She waited until he closed the door behind himself before she slumped back against the shelves and closed her eyes. The entire bunker suddenly felt suffocating. Even after an hour of good, solid torture, that uneasy feeling hadn’t left. Looking around the shelving units, she closed her eyes and headed to the escape hatch.

* * *

 

Castiel stayed with Crowley until just a few hours before dawn he left and told Sam to go in. Sam waited until, with every slow push of power, Crowley’s body healed itself. It took some time and the spell he needed to use would need him at full strength. So he occupied himself with mixing ingredients together and checking his wording. Sam watched the demon king try to watch what he was doing, aware that each moment of silence as Crowley snarled and snapped at him dragged out the demon’s own fear. Meg had really worked him over. Likely had told him too but Sam didn’t care.

This would be over in a matter of hours.

Finishing the mixing, he stepped towards the demon. “Shut up.”

“You can’t bloody tell me what to…” Crowley choked on his words as Sam force-fed him the thick goo he and Kevin had created. Melted down iron and holy water, kept from hardening by alcohols and glycerine, made the demon choke and cough. Shoving his hand over Crowley’s mouth, Sam forced him to swallow and watched his eyes widen in agony.

“Quid feceris et quod feceris vivere, et mala vestra et aliorum dolor.” The low Latin spell they’d been improvising to create but Sam felt his arm almost hum with power. Glowing light slowly spilled from his palm into the demon’s mouth. 

Crowley howled in agony, his eyes and mouth glowing the way it might have if an angel had touched him. Sam continued the litany until the glow ebbed slowly and no longer streamed out of his hand. Crowley sagged back in the chains and he stepped back, shaking his now numb fingers. His forearms were burning hot from the power inside of him.

“Better remember, Crowley. I don’t have a lot of time left.”

* * *

 

Chuck was outside his house, grabbing the mail in his ratty bathrobe, when he felt it. The wind picked up, snapping his robe around him, and the hot breeze ruffled his hair. Flipping through the letters, he began his slow trek back to his front porch. But each step slowly dragged and he found his feet growing heavier and heavier. He felt as if he was being split in two.

He nearly made it to the steps when it felt as if he’d been struck with a sledgehammer between his eyes. Moaning, he dropped like a stone and stared up at the dawn sky.

All at once, visions of people flashed before his eyes. Billions of them of every race and gender. People screaming for someone to help them, praying, begging, pleading, and ultimately hating the very person they needed. Wars, genocide, famine, pestilence, death… all of it.

As blood began to weep out of his eyes, Chuck screamed for mercy.

* * *

 

Sheol threw her head back and laughed. Laughed as she didn’t know she could laugh. The entirety of Lethe rejoiced with her and she spun on her heel as the souls almost sang in unison with their home’s humming. It just felt good for a modicum of happiness that she paused in her spinning. Since joining herself with the Earth, she had picked up a habit of liking alcohol, specifically the finer wines and champagnes. An ice-cold glass appeared in her hand and she sipped it.

“One would think such a celebration is premature.”

Death’s dry voice didn’t cause her to flinch.

“I am not celebrating winning. I am celebrating what my plan is doing to him.” Sheol sipped again. “It is no more than he deserves.”

When she turned, Death was sitting on her divan, looking out of place in the stark white with his black suit. He dusted off lint from his knee. 

“What exactly is there to celebrate?” He sat back. “The more you push, the more he will simply go back and rewrite an ‘out.’ He always does. Look at how long it took for all those dinosaurs to die off. And some are still alive in the ocean.”

The smile she gave him was slow and wicked and he tilted his head at her.

“What have you done?”

“You don’t really think I wouldn’t learn from mistakes?” she countered. “Brother. You are worse than those little creatures who dared call themselves your brother. Four Horsemen indeed. Did they ever realize just how out of their league you were?”

“Don’t change the subject. What have you done?”

“The same sort of trick that stalled evolution for a time. I’ve tied him, his mortal form that is, to an insignificant and thoroughly corrupted soul.” Sheol settled on the divan beside him and crossed her legs neatly. “He managed to have Metatron make my contracts things of utter agony to complete. Dear Sam Winchester is likely to die doing it. Which is unfortunate but I’m sure you’ll have no worries over that.”

Death said nothing about that.

“For every time he reworks his contracts, he just starts again. I simply tied his life to the demon’s. He will experience the trials in tandem, die with him, live with him. Until he submits utterly or another way is found. It is easy enough to do, he did the same with _my_ demon and that ridiculous angel he is so fond of.” Sheol settled back and took a long drink of champagne.  

“A time loop. So for every trial that is completed, he will rework it to try to stall you, and you will simply loop him back to the beginning. Forcing him to submit.” Death considered it. “Fascinating.”

Sheol smiled warmly at him. 

“And you are quite confident that this will work?” He leaned towards her. “You have several weapons in play. How do you know they won’t bite back?”

“Because that would involve my direct involvement.” Her eyes hardened just a little. “And none of you want that.”

“No,” Death murmured, looking out at the souls swimming in the air above them. “We certainly don’t.”

* * *

 

Crowley stared blindly at the wall opposite him, his eyes red and dilated. Red smoke continued to spill his mouth, only to be dragged back into him by the force of the wards. He yanked at the chains and felt them dig even deeper into his skin.

“No. I won’t…” he groaned as the pressure in his skull increased and blood began to leak out of his ears.

Sam continued to repeat the spell in intervals, coming up and smearing holy oil across his head in a cross at times so that it was always fresh. Crowley would twitch and whimper under the pressure, his eyes fluttering but not once did they close. As Sam finished the tenth application, Crowley’s head turned up to him.

“He’s… He’s going to betray me, isn’t he?” His voice was a whimper and Sam stared down at him. “I made the deal and I know what is going to happen. My family is going to be slaughtered.”

His head lolled back. “I hear the hounds.”

Sam stared down at him and removed his hand from his forehead.

Crowley’s sudden scream was oddly heart-wrenching and he moved back to his chair.

“They’re coming to kill me!” Crowley rolled in the chains and howled for mercy.

Sam only looked down at his glowing arms which were now pulsing with their own heartbeat.

* * *

 

Castiel managed not to explode with anger when he found that Meg was gone from the bunker. With nothing he could do but watch Dean fret over Sam, who’d come back out from the dungeon bleeding from his nose, he’d retreated. Even when Sam was back in to continue the rituals, Dean was waiting outside the door. Castiel had only met his eyes and saw that what he wanted. To be left to take care of his brother. There was nothing he could do.

It wasn’t hard to tell that without the ability to heal Sam, this was a moment Dean needed with his brother alone.

Stretching out his awareness over the immediate region, Castiel picked up her tracks.

He was stunned when his tracking brought him to the small cabin in Colorado.

The house was dark and quiet, still warm from the wood stove, and he carefully checked all the wards first. None had been broken and if it wasn’t for what he felt, he might have thought she was gone already. But he could feel her nearby and her discarded, blood-soaked jacket hung over the bannister was another sign.

Exhaling out a deep sigh of relief, Castiel climbed to the loft and eyed the nursery. It was still safe. She wasn’t in there though.

He turned to the loft’s open area and saw the demon lying on her stomach, resting on the double bed. 

For a moment, Castiel thought about saying something to keep from startling her.

But he knew she wasn’t likely to run off since she was naked to the waist on top of the sheets, apparently dozing. A half-eaten plate of food had fallen to the floor and he moved quietly to clean up. Meg murmured something and he kept an eye on her as he muted the lights and threw another hunk of wood into the corner furnace. The wards made using any real power difficult and he didn’t want to test them.

Castiel glanced around, took another deep breath, and then removed his coat and jacket, tossing them onto the low wicker chair. 

_You’re so close to falling_ , some internal thought nagged him and he shoved it away as he sat on the bed.

Meg didn’t move when he said her name.

Gingerly, he stretched out beside her and looked up at the ceiling. He could only wait for Dean to call on him now.

He needed to find some sort of comfort against the apprehension he could feel.

Not sure why, he rolled to his own stomach and slowly reached out. Meg grumbled and backed into the touch. He saw a glint of silver and realized she was clutching his angel sword under the pillow. Carefully, he removed it and put it on the table beside the bed, reaching across her pale body. The cold feel of her skin made him stop from rolling away and he ran his hand down her side.

“Meg?” he muttered but she didn’t move.

He watched Meg’s face as he lay against her back, fingers curling over her stomach. The demon was quiet under the surface. She was tired and worried, even after all that time spent getting her revenge on Crowley. Castiel’s fingers drew a circle and without thinking he pressed his lips just beneath her earlobe. He inhaled deeply, memorizing all of her and the way she felt. Wondered if he could talk to her finally. Speak of things he couldn’t when she had her guard up with him. Meg shifted in her doze, murmuring again, and his fingers stilled.

She was daydreaming. Even without tapping into her mind, he could feel the pain and stress. It wasn’t of Lethe.

He felt her tension as she twitched and stretched a little. 

Her dreams were back and he worried about her.

“Clarence?” she asked groggily and he felt her reach for her power as a sort of warning. Immediately his hand went over the soft skin of her back, pressing gently.

“Shh.” He imagined wrapping his wings around her and there was a surge of power that followed, blanketing them both in a protective shell of warmth. “I’m here.”

She turned over, wearily tucking her face into his neck, and sighed. “Thought you were staying back in the bunker.”

“You needed me more I think. They were going to sleep anyway.” He groaned low in his throat as she settled against him. Accepting his protection for once. “I should have furnished a larger bed,” he whispered and she laughed. “I didn’t expect you to actually rest like this.”

“I might be getting old. I don’t mind.” Her legs slid between his and he felt her press into him. “Get me warm, ‘kay? Then we can fight or do whatever is norms for us.”

He couldn’t help but nod as her arms slid around his waist. Meg’s lips pressed against his pulse and he lowered his own to her hair, one hand stealing down to rest on her stomach. He could almost feel the tiny thump thump of their child against him. Imagined her demanding his attention. Needing it. 

_I’m here,_ he thought to her and felt her love coming back, her fear for her mother just underlying it. She was frightened by something wrong with her mother. Something the thorny and self-protective demon would not admit to. _I’ll protect you both._

* * *

 

Death considered going to Castiel. Of all the angels, he might be the best choice. But not yet. It wasn’t time for such a large counter move yet. He couldn’t properly feel the angel as it was, which meant he was likely with the demon. Where that demon was, then Sheol would not be far behind.

Sitting across from Chuck’s unconscious body, twitching on the hospital bed, he debated on just leaving it alone.

But then he considered how very hard it was to get decent pizza anywhere else in the universe.

“You are in for a world of pain when she gets through with you,” he muttered to the man on life-support. Subtly, he reached out and tucked a pen and paper into his hands and forced him to take them rigidly.

A nurse making her rounds at the same time saw them. “How the hell?” she muttered, going to remove them. She thought it was some sick joke of the interns.

She dropped dead onto the floor and Death sighed as one of his Reapers appeared to take the soul. “Unfortunately, I have to run interference this time,” he muttered and the Reaper blinked at him. “Run along, Ajay. You’ll be needed in Bucharest shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

It gave the entity little joy to watch the scurrying of the Reaper but he noticed Chuck’s pen starting to move over the page.

* * *

 

_Trapped in his own mind, Chuck stared at the typewriter in the middle of the white room. The desk was black and there was a neat stack of papers to one side._

_“I can’t let you win. Not this time,” he whispered as he pulled the  page from the typewriter._

_But as he put his fingers on the keys, with each punch and slide he heard the screaming in his head. He tried to ignore it, tried to write through it, but the screaming brought with it visions of agony and pain. Visions he had caused._

_“I can’t let you win!” he snarled at the typewriter._

* * *

 

Meg woke with a jerk, feeling a tiny lurch in her stomach. She hadn’t really slept that deeply in days. When she had, she’d dreamt of Sheol or Lethe. Restlessness burned inside of her and she felt her demonic soul struggling to get free.

Too long in a stolen body.

The hand on her stomach and the body laying against her was warm and secure. Twisting a little, she opened her eyes to see Castiel staring back at her. His blue eyes looked almost black from the shadows and he looked vaguely ridiculous with the way he tried to tilt his head to look at her. Her feet were trapped by his shoes and he shifted his legs a little to give her room. It made him move tighter into her instead. Meg touched her head and felt the headache throbbing just behind the base of her skull.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You look tired.”

She opened her mouth to give him a snarky answer but something else turned her away from him. “We need to get back to bunker.”

* * *

 

Sam stumbled into the dungeon, Dean just behind him, arms out and ready to catch him. “I’m fine,” he kept repeating.

“Fine, fine fine,” Crowley repeated, nearly weeping tears of blood. “We’re all so very…. very fine.”

He giggled and Dean stayed close to Sam as Crowley twisted around.

“I dreamt.” Crowley licked his lips and gasped for breath. “So many things. That I’ve done.”

He moaned and his head fell to his chest.

“That I’ve regretted.”

Sam gave Dean a hesitant look but his brother was staring at the demon. Crowley tilted his head back and almost cringed at the sight of them.

“How do I begin to ask for forgiveness?” he whispered.

Dean handed Sam the demon knife and retreated back to where he was keeping his own weapons close by.

“You can start by getting cured,” he answered for Sam. Sam slit the knife over his palm, drawing a thick line of blood. He squeezed his hand as the blood began to leak out from it, oozing and beginning to glow with a bright light. Dean had to shield his eyes from the power of the glow but Sam looked into it. It gave his face an eerie blue tone but his eyes glowed an amazing aqua colour, switching to white as he focussed on Crowley.

“Deus invenit iniquitatem.” He put his bloody hand over Crowley’s eyes. Immediately the sound of sizzling flesh filled the dungeon and Sam winced, swaying on his feet. “Tu…tu…”

Dean reached out to grab him but he felt burned by the amount of power Sam was radiating. “Sammy… Sam!”

“I’m fine, Dean!” his brother shouted, shoving him away. “Tu bac fecisti et in securitatem pacis.”

His voice turned guttural as Crowley’s whimpers became drawn out howls. As animalistic and pained as a trapped dog, he writhed under Sam’s grip. Raising the knife, Sam plunged it deep into Crowley’s chest. Dean watched as the red smoke poured out of his eyes and ears, evaporating in the air. The screams echoed and the knife twisted deeper and deeper. Sam yanked it out and the wound closed over, healing with a bright flicker of blue light.

The demon collapsed further down and when his eyes open, they were wide and confused.

“What… I…”

The chains fell uselessly from his neck, the sigils and wards no longer glowing. They wouldn’t work on a human. Dean stared at him and then at Sam, who was glowing even brighter. Fishing into his pocket, Sam grabbed the last notes Kevin had given him, read them over, and then looked back at the wall. Dean rocked forward but Sam was ignoring him. 

Something was missing in his brother, replaced by the sheer light he exuded. There was nothing of Sam left.

Even when possessed by Lucifer, there had been Sam.

Now there was nothing. 

“Sam… Sam, wait.”

Sam made another slit, this time on his arms in a cross pattern that resembled an angel sigil crossed with a demon’s trap. “Abramg adrpht… donasdogama iaial.”

He raised the knife and slammed the blade into his left forearm. 

“With the third trial done, I close the Gates of Hell. I damn you all to an eternity, trapped in your own evil.”

The room exploded into pure white light.

* * *

 

In the library, Kevin shouted as the tablet exploded into shards of black rock.

* * *

 

Castiel and Meg entered the bunker warily, watching the surge of electricity through it. A strange smell in the air, not unlike smoke and demonic sulphur, was followed by red lights that whizzed by them. The blinking lights and blaring alarm were warnings said something was wrong.

Reaching out, Castiel pulled her to a stop.

“Let me go first.”

“Don’t need protecting, remember?” Meg muttered and he gave her a look. 

“Let me go first.”

She waved her hand to get him to go in front.

The bunker was starting to rumble and shake, and he paused on one of the steps as Kevin came out running of the library. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m not sure.” The angel staggered as the bunker shook again.

A loud scream made Castiel break into a run. “Dean…”

Meg was close behind him as the rumbling in the bunker built in tempo, until it seemed like a deep bass was booming through the concrete. 

When they came to the hidden dungeon, Meg was almost pushed back into the hall by the activated wards. Kevin’s hand on her back propelled her forward and both she and Castiel entered the low room. He’d drawn his sword, ready for any sort of action.

But what he saw made him lower his sword.

“Dean?”

The low wrenching sobs in the corner made Meg turn to look. Crowley was no longer chained to the floor and was crawling about, struggling to his feet. Dismissing him, she waved Kevin back and stepped through the doorway.

But the sobs continued from the centre of the room this time. 

“Sammy…”

“Dean?” Castiel dropped his angel sword to the ground and ran to where the hunter was curled up on the floor in a pile of ash. “Dean?” He reached out and the Winchester whirled on his feet, grabbing him by his coat. His strength hauled him down and he sank to his knees beside Dean. “Dean. It’s me.”

“Where’s Sam?” Meg muttered, one eye on Crowley as the building shook.

Kevin ran his fingers through his hair.

“The…”

He lowered his head.

“Oh, God. Sacrifice.”

Dean was crying, for the first time in a long time, and Castiel held onto his shoulders. He was trying to make sense of what he was saying but the sight around them spoke volumes. Like an angel’s wings, Sam’s soul had left its imprint on the concrete. Castiel resisted the urge to shout a curse at God and gripped Dean tighter.

“All this…” Crowley’s voice was a raspy hiss. “To cure a demon, to close the gates.” He turned his blood-soaked face to Dean. “Was it worth it, Winchester?”

Dean sobbed hard and Castiel held him still as he took in deep, shaky breaths. He’d watched Sam explode into light, Dean whispered, so overwhelmed by a mixture of Grace and God’s light that his body couldn’t take it.

“Meg, get Kevin back.”

She had her hand on the prophet’s thin shoulder when she was tackled to the ground. He shouted and was tossed out of the way and Meg spun on her heel only to take the discarded angel blade to her shoulder. It cut to the bone, sending up a spark of light, and she went ricocheting back into the wall. Crowley was limping towards her and around the spots in her vision she saw him holding the blade up.

“I told her I’d find a way. She’ll repay me. She said I just had to find a way to make it happen.”

Meg twisted in time to see Crowley’s hand coming upwards to her heart. The plunge would kill her instantly and there was no dodging it with her back against the wall. The shaking building gave her no grip.

Something large and tan moved into her line of sight but she heard the loud squelch of the angel sword sliding home. The flash of light was brilliant and she curled onto her side to try to avoid it.

Then it blinked out, leaving trace smells of ozone and burnt flesh. She rolled onto her back though her legs were trapped by dead weight.

Crowley stood over her. “What angel to protect your bastard now?” he drawled lowly.

A loud shotgun blast made her jump but the bullet wasn’t for her. Dean kept firing, having crawled to his weapon casement. The shotgun he kept loaded and ready. With the kick of its firing, his expression turned colder and more angry.

The ex-demon’s back arched in agony and he howled from the pain  as another round blew his stomach open. 

Meg didn’t bother to look as Dean knocked him out of the way; her eyes were only on the body lying on her legs.

“Clarence? Come on, tree-topper.” 

Even though she knew better, she felt his face and found it cold. Blue eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling and his face was slack. The imprint of ash wings around them was a familiar sign and she felt something in her give even more than before. A feeling that something had snapped and broken inside of her.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was small from where he was standing, the emptied shot gun to one side. The loss of Sam had pulled him apart and now without Castiel he looked more broken. “Cas?”

Meg stared up at him and the rumbling in the building became deafening. Her hand buried into the wing marks, feeling phantom warmth left over from his Grace, and she lowered her head.

* * *

 

Standing in Yellowstone, Death felt the heat start to gather and closed his eyes. “Here we go.”

* * *

 

It took her only a moment to gather herself. The instinct to sit and mourn was not as strong in her as it was in Dean. The sudden heat in the room, the smell of smoke, was becoming stronger and stronger as the rumbling in the bunker deepened. Not sure if the bunker was to collapse, Meg grabbed Dean by his arm and yanked him out after her. Kevin was covering his head as he met them in the hall.

“Gotta get out. The alarms are going insane.”

The bunker’s electricity was popping and sending fresh sparks in the air. Shielding her head, Meg ran ahead of them and tried to see a way out of the smoke. Dean suddenly yanked on her arm, hauling her around to get out the second escape hatch. Kevin climbed up in front of her and she shoved him out of the hole before sprawling on the dirt beside him. Dean collapsed to his knees and tilted his head back.

The heat even up here was stifling.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked as he gasped for air. The loud crack of thunder in the air was like hearing a Gate being slammed shut.

“The Gate is shutting, I think,” Kevin whispered.

The sudden howl of agony that came from Meg was deafening in its agony. Meg felt the pull of the spell so deeply that it cut inside of her. Rolling onto her knees, she choked and felt black smoke leaking out of her as her being started to follow the call. Hell was calling her home.

Dean looked up at the sky to see streaks of black and red racing over it like stripes.

“Demons,” he whispered. “Sammy… you did it.”

Meg whimpered and tried to stop the pain from engulfing her.

“Meg!” Kevin reached out to touch her and something sparked in his fingers to her arm. As if whatever power he had was reacting to the pull on her. Inside of her, it felt like something _shifted_ and almost immediately the effect was gone. It sent her face down in the dirt, clawing at it to try to gain purchase in the grass, and she arched her back as fresh pain started to singe at her soul.

Only this time, it was a deep grief.

“Oh… Hell.”

She had never expected to feel grief again.

Her hand gripped her stomach tight. When she looked up to see both Hunter and prophet staring at her, she was ready to ask for help for the first time. Her body ached and felt too tight for her. She felt utterly weak.

But a flicker in the corner of her vision turned her head instead and she saw something gathering over the earth towards them. Fire and hail, gathered in storm clouds, were rushing over the ground and she could only stare as the others stared at her and wondered at her naked fear.

Before she could even point, the firestorm rushed over them and incinerated everything in its path.


	14. Hurricane (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sam nears the end of the trials, Castiel and Dean both hope that he can recover from the damage. Knowing what it will mean, Chuck’s desperation to stop Sheol starts to unravel. No one is prepared for the consequences. Suddenly, Meg begins to oppose the trial being completed while Kevin uncovers more of the tablet’s meaning.

**Hurricane (When Demons Purify)**

**Part 2**

_Rewind…_

Kevin jumped on his feet, eyes widening as he stared at the chalkboard. His fingers clutched the papers, the tablet still on the table beside him. A hot sweat drenched his back, causing his shirt to cling to him, and he sucked in several deep breaths. His lungs ached, his eyes ached… everything just ached.

And burned.

That waking nightmare was so vivid that he was sure it had happened. Sam burning to ash under the force of his own borrowed light, Castiel murdered protecting them, Crowley shot to death by Dean, the firestorm.

The firestorm that had engulfed everything.

Unsure why, he started to cry and he put his head down as he braced himself on the table. When he opened his eyes again to try to blink away the tears, the tablet swam in his vision in a blurry mess. But something in the writing caught his eye.

“What the-?”

He picked it up and held it close to his eyes. “What?”

He’d thought it said Punishment the first time but now it said Choice. The spell was easy, remarkably so, and he quickly copied it out, not questioning why it was so easy this time.

He knocked over a few scraps of paper and an envelope fluttered to the ground. It didn’t catch his eye and he stepped on it on his way out.

“This is just weird.” He gathered the papers and sprinted for the door to catch Sam.

The moment he left the room, Sheol stepped out and took a long look at the tablet. But rather than give into her anger, she smiled and chuckled. “Oh you did love to bend the rules.”

* * *

 

Meg was resting outside the dungeon door, her face bathed in sweat and her fingers stained with blood. When she heard Kevin approaching, her eyes snapped open to reveal black. He faltered a step and then forced himself to look her in the eye. Her head cocked to the side a little. 

“What’s up?”

“You… you okay?” he asked curiously and she hesitated before nodding.

“Just bit worn out. And sticky.” She eyed him. “You look like you’ve been working out.”

“Nightmare. All fire and ash, that sort of thing, people I care about dying.” He gave her a weak smile. “Must be the lack of sleep.”

Meg’s eyes were suddenly intense. “What kind of fire?”

“A storm…”

They stared at each other before Meg shrugged. “Weird. I had a bit of a loopy feeling too. Cas is in there with Crowley, making sure I didn’t damage anything too vital. Sam just went down the hall.”

“Okay.”

Kevin watched her before he walked away and had the strangest feeling that Meg had had the same nightmare as well. 

The demon looked away and down at the box Dean had brought out. The film reel stuck out and she bit her lower lip, wondering why it was there. The Winchesters had been researching so much, it probably didn’t mean anything.

That weird idea that she’d been out in this hall before was thrown away when she heard Crowley’s voice. Kevin had distracted her enough that, rather than disappearing like she’d first wanted to, she made her way to the common room. It was easier to look for something to eat while she waited for news.

* * *

 

The dungeon now carried that heavy, meaty smell of blood and torture, and if Castiel hadn’t found the place chilling before, he found it disturbing now. Fixing his collar, he picked up the spray paint and began to quickly repaint sigils on the walls. The demon behind him groaned and slowly lifted his head.

“What? One at a time? Play pin the tail on Crowley?” he ground out. He jangled the chains hard and the angel glanced at him as he threw the spray can in the corner.

“Not exactly.”

“Your little whore,” Crowley spat out a mouthful of blood, “she’s not half bad. Learned loads from what I did to her I’m sure. But she’s not enough to scare me. What’re you doing in here? Want to see what your boyfriends get to work with?”

With a small smile, Castiel checked where Dean had hooked the chains to in the wall to be sure they weren’t loose from Crowley’s struggles.

“This is their fight. I’m just here to help them if they need it.”

“What role is that, huh? Winchesters use you until you bleed, but you still come back, begging for more. You’re almost as bad as Meg hanging around them, maybe a bit more pathetic really. I remember you being something to be feared. Now? You’re a has-been outcast, if rumours are right.”

Castiel shook his head. “She told you they are using you for the third trial. You’re frightened.” 

He heard the demon almost growl in anger and he checked the other side.

“What about you, Castiel?” Crowley’s sneer was bloody but lewd. “Are you falling again?”

The angel stopped and turned slowly. The King of Hell gave him a triumphant look.

“For a demon this time?” He spat out blood onto the floor. “Or are you just finding it nice to get yourself laid on a semi-regular basis?”

Castiel didn’t respond as he set about fixing the chains tighter.

Crowley glanced over his shoulder at him. “You thought this through all the way? Huh?” He fidgeted. “What happens when that imp gets pushed out? What are you thinking, Castiel? Apple pie life? You get to raise the bastard in sunshine and lollipops? You know that isn’t how this goes.”

The silence was deafening but he knew he had his attention.

“You think Meg gives a damn about any of this? She’s using all of you and you’re falling for it hook line and sinker. Oh, you are desperate for a piece of tail.” Crowley’s smirk was lewd. “She’s going to pop that kid out and use it rule the world. Because we both know that is what she is like.”

Castiel continued to fix the chains.

“What? You think she’s in love with you?” Crowley pulled at his chains. “She can’t. Demons can’t love. I would know, remember? We don’t change. This cure really isn’t going to change who I am.”

Without speaking, Castiel eyed him.

“So if you’re in love with her? Is that what this is? Sick.” He fidgeted. “You’d do well to just forget that and kill her. Before she kills you. With or without your kid’s blood on her hands.”

Castiel stood up before him and stared down at him. His smile was cool. Crowley stared up at him and screeched when Castiel slammed his fist against his face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“You’re pathetic when you’re desperate, Crowley.”

* * *

 

Chuck wrapped the heavy blanket around his shoulders and watched the mailman drop off parcels at the end of his driveway. Sitting at his desk, he had piles of papers stacked around him. His hands shook and his coffee spilled over his fingers though he didn’t care about the burn. The nightmare had been so intense that he’d been unable to shake it.

He’d woken up on the bathroom floor, his head cut open and lying in a tiny pool of blood. He had to drag himself out into the kitchen, fixed a pot of strong coffee, and stayed on his couch for a few hours.

Chuck wrote on any piece of paper he could get his hands on.

But with every word, the regret from a thousand screaming voices kept him from escaping the agony of it.

“I have to find a good out,” he whispered. He looked at his laptop screen where the title Choice was underlined.

“This might be it.”

* * *

 

Sam gave Kevin a tired look as Dean finished wrapping his hands. The mysterious burns had started to appear just an hour ago and they itched as much as they burned. A few crude jokes from Dean should have earned him a smile but all Sam could do was ignore him.

“So this trial should actually be what now?”

“Choice. Basically you force the soul out, purify their meatsuit, recapture the demon… Rinse and repeat. Kind of like wearing the demon down.”

“Right.” Dean gave the prophet a look. “So we sign Crowley up for what? An eternity at the sinks?”

Kevin glared. “No. It’s another spell. More cerebral. It toys with his beliefs and wears on his ability to escape. He traps himself and it is him wanting release that turns him. At first I thought it was complex but it should be easier this time.”

“Yeah well, these trials keep changing… and I hope you’re right this time, Kev.” Sam lifted his hands. “Off I go.”

Dean watched him and sighed. Kevin fidgeted a little and he frowned at the younger man. “What’s eating you?”

“Just what Sam said. I mean, I know for a fact the last time I read that tablet it said Punishment. Now it’s changed. What if it’s being rewritten as we speak?”

Dean’s grin was sarcastic but tired. “That would say that God actually cares what happens to all of us. And we all know the answer to that.”

* * *

 

Castiel found her in the common room, half naked as she washed her shirt. When he fluttered in she jumped a little but settled just as fast when she realized who it was. Meg continued to run the hot water over her fingers until he cleared his throat.

“Was it worth it?” he asked.

Her eyes stayed on the ruined material. “Yep.”

“I’m glad.” He edged a few steps closer and realized that she’d been scrubbing at the same spot since he’d come in. It was clean; there was no more blood to scrub off. Meg glanced over her shoulder at him and he looked away from the shirt.

“Out damn spot out?” she offered and he blinked.

“You know Shakespeare.”

“Not like I wasn’t there for the majority of those times.”

He gave an almost smile. “I preferred Much Ado About Nothing at one point.”

She dropped the soap into the sink and took a deep breath. “What’s up, feathers? You never just idly chit chat. Mostly because you suck at it.”

He leaned against the sink beside her. “I’ve never seen you look as if you were happy to see me before. But I know what I saw when we met in the hall.” He drew a pattern in the soap but his eyes caught her profile. “Your eyes lit up.”

She gave him a sarcastic smile. “Don’t get preening those feathers yet, angel face. I get happy to see some double A’s and a massager sometimes.”

Castiel stared at her and this time she looked away.

“You’ve been eating at least?”

She gestured at the pile of plates stacked on the counter. “Something like that. She’s a demanding little thing.”

“Have you considered naming her?” Castiel asked as he watched her rinse out the soap from her shirt. He needed to keep this inane conversation going. Anything to keep from listening to Crowley’s rising screams in the dungeon. Anything to keep from thinking about what Meg had done to the demon. What right now Sam was doing and risking.

“Hasn’t crossed my mind,” Meg admitted as she wrung the shirt out and turned towards him. He resolutely kept his eyes on her face though her breasts just grazed his chest and he noticed how the black lace made her skin even paler. “Why?”

“Just a thought.” He couldn’t tell her what he’d thought of naming the child. At least for the sake not calling her ‘it’. His ideas had changed after watching her recently anyway.

Her eyes narrowed a little. “More things to worry about than a baby. Possible end of the world, right?” 

He tilted his head on the side. “What makes you say that?”

Meg’s gaze went to the floor. “I don’t know. How many hours do we have before the boys need one of us?”

He checked the microwave clock. “Several. Dawn’s light begins it, dusk ends it.”

“Fun times. I’m going to go watch bad television then.” She walked by him and Castiel watched her go. When she paused in the door way, she turned around. 

“You know, I don’t think bad television would kill you, would it?” 

A little stunned about this sudden desire for his company, even if it would just be sitting there, he almost stumbled after her.

* * *

 

Sam murmured the Aramaic incantation over and over again as he walked a slow circle around Crowley. The red smoke of his soul kept escaping and with each attempt he simply shoved it back in with a reverse exorcism. It forced Crowley to abandon his body and experience the pull of flesh. His soul would smoke out, circle the devil’s trap, but never be released. It was forcing him to choose humanity.

It was a strange way to earn humanity back.

Crowley was silent through the process, sweat now long since gone dry on his face and his beard crusted with blood.

Sam wasn’t feeling any better than he had before. His body ached and he found that no matter how much he licked his lips or drank, there was no easing the thirst he felt. Not hunger. Just endless thirst. 

He sat outside the room after two hours and leaned against the hall wall, listening to the roar of Crowley’s demonic soul trying to find an escape within the confines. He shut his eyes and sighed.

“Sam?” Dean crouched down and gently patted his knee. “You okay?”

Sam smiled without opening his eyes. “I look okay?”

“You look like Hell.” Dean scooted over beside him and without thinking Sam leaned his head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m worried this isn’t worth the risk, Sam. You’re… you look…”

He looked at the open dungeon door. “I don’t want you to die.”

“No one wants to die, Dean,” Sam muttered tiredly. “But sometimes you have to.”

“Not you, Sammy.” Dean slung his arm over his shoulders. “You’ve died enough for this world. For me.” 

* * *

 

Chuck stared blankly at the screen. He felt trapped again. This time, every time he went to drink to escape the pain, the alcohol only brought it back worse. He typed gibberish, he listened to music that only made his head ache, he saw nothing but blurred type and red-hot agony.

He felt… sympathy. As if all he’d written had actually burned into him and left deep holes in his soul.

“I need… I need.”

His head crashed onto the keyboard and a long stream of words spewed out of his mouth. There was no order to them but the screen started to blink and the cursor moved on its own, spelling out names.

Spelling out a name that he wouldn’t even know yet.

Then the cursor began to fly over the screen, endless amounts of black type filling the white document.

Chuck, weak and disorientated, could only murmur to himself and pray for sleep. 

* * *

 

Meg jerked awake on the couch, coated in sweat and feeling suffocated. She quickly bolted upright and ran her hands over her face and body. The flesh was normal, she was whole. The firestorm had been a dream. 

Near the television, Castiel had been slumped in the armchair as he read one of the gossip magazines. He blinked. “Meg?”

He was staring at her so intently that she leapt off the couch away from him.

“Cas?”

“I stayed…. Are you all right? You look tired.”

Some of his words gave her a strange feeling of déjà vu and she looked at him. She couldn’t help but blurt out her first thoughts.

“Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?” she demanded, trying to ignore that demanding feeling that she go check what the Winchesters were doing.

He tilted his head at the familiar phrase. If he found it strange he didn’t give it away. “Why are you so sweet on me?”

She opened her mouth to give him a snarky answer but something else turned her away from him. “We need to see what they’re doing. It’s close to dusk.”

“Another five minutes won’t hurt I think.” He put the magazine aside and leaned forward towards her. “Have you considered what you’ll do when the Gates close?”

“You mean if it works.”

He snagged her arm before she could walk away. Meg stared up at him as he held her back. “This will work.”

“I bet it is going to get us killed,” she hissed.

“Why do you care?”

“I… I just do.”

He shifted from foot to foot. “Why?”

“I may…” Meg shook her head. “This is stupid.”

“You care about what is happening.” He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. It was just a bad dream.” Meg jerked her arm free and looked at his face so intently that he suddenly felt self-conscious.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just a feeling.” She turned on her heel and walked ahead of him. “Let’s go see the boys about a demon.”

* * *

 

“Get the hell away from me,” Crowley snapped. Sam flicked the blade open as he approached him. The demon was weakened. “I don’t want this anymore. Any of this!” 

His voice was a screech, his demonic colouring no longer as vibrant. It was draining out of him slowly. Sam swallowed down the bile in his throat when he felt the power inside him surge up. The incantation wasn’t required now. He had enough power now to finish it without mere words.

Cutting into his hand, he slapped it onto Crowley’s forehead.

Dean jerked awake where he’d fallen sleep in the hall at the first screams and the deafening roar of wind. “Sam. Sam!” he shouted, shoving open the door. Behind him, Castiel ran in with Meg close on his heels. The sight of Sam, standing tall over Crowley, was brilliant with the backlight of glow around him.

“Sam!” Dean shouted and his brother turned his head towards him. The blood weeping from the corner of his now red eyes was thick and Dean realized that the colouring was not just because of blood.

“He’s taken Crowley’s soul into him,” Castiel whispered to Meg. “He’s purifying him.”

“It’s the last part.”

“Sam, get him out of you!” Dean ordered, taking a step forward but Sam’s head was already thrown back on his shoulders. His mouth opened and he howled as white smoke poured out. It drifted through the air for a moment before being sucked back down into Crowley’s mouth.

Standing behind Castiel, Meg blinked and watched the way Crowley’s now brown eyes opened and stared up at Sam. The chains fell uselessly to the ground around them. Castiel looked up at the lights swirling around the room, his own blue eyes glowing with power as the wind whipped his coat around him. The light seemed to swell and crawl over the walls and ceiling until the entire room glowed. He could feel the power Sam had been holding and he murmured a prayer when it nearly scorched his skin.

Dean launched himself forward to catch Sam before he hit the ground. “Sam? Sammy!”

Sam’s red-streaked face was smiling though and he gave Dean a woozy look. His eyes opened and the look he gave him was weak but triumphant. “I did it, right?”

“Yeah, Sammy. You did.” Dean pushed his hair out of his eyes and tried to wipe the blood away. “Good job, little brother.”

Castiel looked at Crowley and saw only a human staring back at them. Too concerned with Sam and Dean, he crouched down beside them. “He’s human. Cured… I think.”

Meg fidgeted and turned to look around, wondering at the stifling heat building in the room. Behind her, Dean quickly found the scripture Sam carried on him and held it up for him to see. Sam’s voice shook as he began to speak, slipping between Enochian and English as if he was fluent.

Castiel winced at the words, when Sam spoke of sacrifice and duty in a language only he could understand.

Almost immediately, a loud clang was heard, booming like a rusty bell. Meg turned on her heel and felt the pull.

A pull she’d felt before.

“Meg?” Sam’s eyes were on her face now. When she faced them, her eyes were black and thick oily fluid dripped like rancid tears down her pale skin. She swayed unsteadily and her head lifted back on her shoulders so she could scream.

But nothing, no smoke, no power, left her.

She felt the rubber band of power snap her back to place and she crumpled to her knees. Castiel was beside her before she could hit her head. Gripping his coat tight, she leaned her head against his chest and convulsed again. The choking coughs and  the smell of sulphur was strong but no matter how badly her soul tried to leave, her body refused to let it go.

“What is happening?” she whispered, grabbing at her hair and pulling.

“Cas?” Dean shouted and the angel turned to see Sam’s head slumped back. With one last look at Meg, who looked more frightened than he’d ever seen before, he quickly returned to the hunter’s side and knelt, pressing his hand over his face.

“I… I don’t know if I can heal him.”

As if in response to his words, the bunker began to rumble.

Dean’s eyes were suddenly too bright and too frightened. “Please, Cas. Please.”

The words struck the angel and he exhaled sharply. “I’ll try.”

The building shook the moment he laid hands on Sam’s face. He cupped him gently and gently pressed his thumbs over his eyes. Sam moaned, agony ripping through him and making him limp in Dean’s arms. 

“Stay with us, Sammy,” Dean warned. “I’ll kick your ass if you die.”

Meg’s eyes, still filled with black and now white swirls, opened as the room shook. It was hot in here… too hot even for her. Her skin was already slick and she could smell the sulphur reeking through the air. “Cas?”

“Not now, Meg!” Dean ordered but the angel turned his head to see her weakly pointing behind him. There was a sharp piercing pain and he raised his hand blindly. He connected with a jaw and heard Meg’s shout before he saw her tackling Crowley to the ground. Dean simply tried to protect Sam as the demon and ex-demon rolled about the ground, Meg connecting with him. Crowley’s curses were loud as the demon straddled him and drove her hand into his chest.

His startled gaze was made almost comical by the way he looked up at her stupidly as she tore his heart out. His breath stuttered and Meg cursed at him as he fell back lifelessly

Dropping the useless, still beating muscle to the ground, she looked over at Dean and Sam.

Castiel’s breathing was rapid, still holding the broken angel sword where it had pierced his sternum.

“Don’t move him!” Dean snapped at her and together he and a still weak Sam crawled over to the angel. Castiel was still and his eyes were open, beginning to glow. The blow had been slow but it was clear what was happening.

“Cas? Buddy, come on.” Dean’s voice was broken as he and Sam stared at him. The slow slide of the angel blade in him with each ragged breath was making his death agonizing.

Meg stood behind Dean as he and his brother knelt beside him and Castiel’s eyes met hers over Sam’s shoulder. 

“I…”  He was struggling to breathe as Grace poured out of the wound. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, buddy. You’re gonna be fine,” Dean smoothed his hair back from his forehead. Castiel coughed roughly, trying to keep the blade in place but the grace starting to shine out from the wound was beginning to grow. His head tilted towards Meg and she took his other side, ignoring the  rumbling of the building. Dean gave him a sad smile. “You were killed more times than Sam. God loves you too much to let you die”

“You’ll be fine. We’ll just get it out of you,” Sam promised, having to stumble over his own words, and the angel gave them all a patient smile but his eyes dragged to Meg’s stomach. She felt the look as acutely as if he’d touched her. Then his eyes flicked to Dean and Sam, giving them a loving smile.

“My brothers…” He reached out and squeezed Dean’s hand tight before he glanced at Meg. “Meg. I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe in false hope. When she looked away his hand was suddenly around her neck, drawing her down close to his mouth. His lips were shaking as they brushed her earlobe.

“I promised…”

“Not allowed to die under my care, feathers.” She gave a grin. “You get full custody. You gotta learn to listen to me, remember?”

“Why are you so difficult?” he muttered as the grace started to light up his eyes now. It was said tiredly and Meg smoothed her fingers through his hair, keeping her mouth close to his ear.

“‘Cause you know exactly why, you righteous bastard.”

The angel actually smirked though the movement cost him. “I know. It’s why I….”

He exhaled sharply and his eyes widened as the remainder of the broken blade slid into him, the pressure from the broken shreds piercing his heart. His scream was deafening and Meg was pushed away by the light of his Grace and a searing heat that suddenly over-swept the bunker. Her last glimpse was of Dean grabbing Sam to try to protect him from the explosion of fire that exploded their world around them.


	15. Hurricane (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sam nears the end of the trials, Castiel and Dean both hope that he can recover from the damage. Knowing what it will mean, Chuck’s desperation to stop Sheol starts to unravel. No one is prepared for the consequences. Suddenly, Meg begins to oppose the trial being completed while Kevin uncovers more of the tablet’s meaning.

**Hurricane (When Demons Purify)**

**Part 3**

**  
** _Rewind…_

Chuck groaned and looked up from his keyboard. The words were finished, the pages full, but the cursor still blinked. Wiping sleep out of his eyes, he stared at the words without knowing what they really said. It was all gibberish to him in his weak state and he started to speak them aloud to have them make sense. 

They didn’t erase that weak feeling. He’d felt regrets, felt some sort of agony that sunk deeper than his bones, but ultimately his own nature had let him seize control again.

“What?” He reread the last paragraph for the fifth time.  “I didn’t write that.”

After he read the last words, his face went pale and he deleted the three entire pages.

* * *

 

Meg woke in a cold-sweat, the bed-sheets soaked around her as she felt something turn over in her stomach. A knot that bunched and gathered, twisted tight in warning. 

For some reason, her eyes felt damp and ached. As if she’d been crying but this time she kept her cheek pressed to the pillow.

The hand on her stomach and the body laying against her was warm and secure and she opened her eyes to see Castiel staring back at her. His blue eyes flickered a little in the light. His fingers smoothed down her face and she had that feeling of déjà vu. Unable to stop herself, she reached out and cupped his cheek.

Castiel felt alive, felt real. Blood moved under his skin and his breathing was even and deep. The scruff of his jaw, the way his lips were rough under her thumb, his breath smelling of mint and ozone this close. Not sure why, she stared into his eyes and saw the angel lingering behind the vessel. It comforted her to see him and her nightmare faded just a little. Even if he found her touch odd, he didn’t move away from it.

“You were dreaming. I tried to wake you.”

More déjà vu. This was so wrong but she knew that it had happened before. Parts of it stuck in her head. Trying to dismiss what she’d just done, the demon sat up and shook as she looked at her hands. “How long was I out for?”

“It’s just after midnight. They are starting the trial at dawn.”

Meg stared at her hands still and imagined she could still see his blood and ash wings. “Which one?”

Castiel blinked. “Which one? There’s only one. Remember?”

“No… there’s… been two.” She jumped off the bed and grabbed her bra and shirt from the floor. Castiel sat up, looking rumpled and almost childlike with how he tilted his head to watch her. “There’s been two, I know there has!”

He slid off the bed, grabbing his coat and jacket before he carefully approached her. “I think you need to rest. Your dreams…”

“Come on, Clarence!” Her voice was muffled as she fought with her shirt. Patiently, he reached out and helped her tug it down over her head. “Demons don’t dream without a reason, remember?”

He went to argue but then shut his mouth. “That is true.”

“So trust me… something else is going on. I know it.”

“You want me to trust you?”

“Yeah,” Meg fixed her hair and reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. “Zap us back, DeNiro.”

He almost glared at her. “I’m not a taxi driver, Meg.”

Meg grinned since he caught the reference. “You live, you can be whatever you want to be.”

Puzzled over that, he did as she asked and focussed on getting them to the bunker fast.

* * *

 

Chuck stared at the screen as he began to quickly rewrite what he’d done. He had spent just seconds trying to think of another way.

Perhaps making this world too easy in terms of black and white needed to be changed.

He just needed something unexpected.

He needed them to change a little. If he could just deflect them from the path, they wouldn’t carry down it.

“Kevin,” he muttered and his eyes nearly glowed as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

* * *

 

Sam read over Kevin’s muddled notes with weary eyes. He’d felt like he’d already been through all the trials several times before. He remembered bits and pieces, had dreamed strange dreams of purifying Crowley, but none of it was real. He was exhausted, badly wanting a drink, and he didn’t want to tell Dean just how tired he was. It would only worry him all the more. 

The last trial. Rebirth.

“All right, Crowley, change of plans.” Sam put the notes back on the table and approached the King of Hell. “Looks like you are getting some first-class purification and rebirth.”

The demon lifted his head as if it was a struggle to find energy. His face was battered and soaked in blood and sweat. He’d been babbling about fire earlier and Sam had figured it was just the effect of Meg’s torture. But for some reason, the wounds he was suffering just wouldn’t heal. There were burn marks and stab wounds on his body and without full use of his power he couldn’t heal. 

Sam didn’t care. Not now when they were so close. They’d be free of the demons, free to gain some sanity back in their lives. The bastards who had orchestrated his mother’s death, had ruined their lives, would be gone.

“After all we’ve been through.” Crowley’s voice was subdued and sounded as if he’d been beaten past endurance. “Moose, you really think I can be cured? That I want that pure life you’re dangling before me like I was a rabbit after a carrot?”

Picking up a vial of holy water, Sam frowned.

“I’m a damn demon, you oversized Winchester!” Crowley shouted. “You think I want to go back to being some walking corpse when I have all this power at hand?”

“Doesn’t matter what you want, Crowley.” The young man wiped his bleeding nose with the back of his hand as he approached him.

“That’s the problem with you Winchesters. Such black and white thinking,” Crowley spat out and a small dribble of blood slid down his crusted beard. “Oh I lost so much! Oh my mummy died! Daddy didn’t love me enough! Boohoo. Now I get to choose what is ultimately right and ultimately wrong because I have a god complex.”

Sam paused mid-step as the demon’s words cut deep and Crowley looked up at him.

“You’re worse than any demon, Sam. Than any angel or monster. You are the monsters, not us.”

Not wanting to hear another word, Sam slammed his fist into Crowley’s mouth to shut him up.

* * *

 

Meg was like a tiny tornado the minute he transported them to the bunker. Even the blaring alarm warning of their presence didn’t deter her. She swept in, leaving Castiel feeling a little overwhelmed by her frantic turns and strides, and made for Kevin’s guest room. The door was shut but behind they could both hear him shouting at something.

“None of this is right! I’ve already done all of this!” Kevin’s voice became a scream. “What more do you want from me?!?”

Meg slammed her hand on the door. “Open up, short stuff. Calvary is here.” Castiel eyed her and she shrugged. “What?”

“You don’t have a horse.”

She smirked. “Got a unicorn I rode into town.”

He rolled his eyes. “I still don’t understand…”

“Kevin! If you don’t open this door I am going to rip your spine out and use it to beat Castiel up with.”

The door opened immediately and before they could move both demon and angel found themselves enveloped in a hug. Meg shoved him off onto Castiel. 

“Whoa. Let’s not do the Oprah reunions.”

“I am… I’m just so happy to see you both. Alive!” Kevin sounded so relieved that Castiel squirmed out of his tight embrace.

“We were only gone an hour or so.”

Kevin gaped. “Really?” He looked back at the room, at the clock slowly ticking away. “Damn, I’m going insane.”

“Why?” Meg walked in and stared at the writing that now covered the chalkboard he’d taken. “You sure you didn’t dream something?”

She turned slowly and her eyes were black. “Again?”

He stared. “You… you remember?”

“Not like I want to.” She winced and rubbed at her shoulder. “It’s all hazy but it felt real. I remember parts of it. And I don’t dream.”

Castiel glanced between them. “What are you talking about?”

“The trials. There’s a consequence to them. I just figured it out now. The writing is just so clear now.” Kevin began to talk fast and high in his excitement. “I mean, it makes sense. Everything has a disclaimer, right?”

“Wait. You and I are sharing dreams?” Meg exhaled. “Not sexy.”

“Not dreams. After that first time, I stayed behind during the trial, did some real work now that I could see everything. Everything that God meant not to happen.” Kevin ran his hands over the chalkboard. “These weren’t trials. They don’t end in peace and love.”

Castiel was stepping towards him. “What do you mean?”

“I found this on the floor.” He handed it to Meg. “It was what sparked my memory. It all came back. Suddenly I remembered it, the first time. It was my deja vu.”

Meg read the tiny gold embossed words. “Clarence. Go get Dean and Sam.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Now!” Kevin snapped at him. The angel stared at him and he sheepishly looked away. “Please.” 

Meg waited until he was gone before she handed Kevin back the envelope. “You watched everyone die.”

He nodded. “It’s why I have to stop this. Now.”

Meg looked around at the writing all over the walls. “Better late than never.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t a surprise that the Winchesters were furious at both Kevin and Meg for pulling them away from Crowley. Castiel had had to yank Sam away, leaving Crowley half-exorcised again and unconscious, and he ignored Dean’s protests.

“What, we’re stopping because your girlfriend had a sudden nightmare?” Dean snarled at the angel midway down to the archives.

“She’s not my girlfriend and yes.” Castiel turned toward him before they came down the stairs. “Demons don’t dream, remember? Meg’s even admitted that herself. They only dream when something is going to happen or has happened. Lucifer, Apocalypse…” His voice dropped. “Lethe.”

“Cas, we are close, so close to finally closing them all back in their fiery cage and you want us to back down because Meg had a scary dream?”

“She said it has been déjà vu.”

“Sorry for not articulating that out,” Dean snapped and Sam gave him a look. “What?”

“Look, if we can just get this over with, I can get back to….” His brow wrinkled. “Doing whatever it was I was going to do.”

Dean watched him go down the stairs before he turned to Castiel. “I  swear to God, Cas, if this delay, if any of this kills him, I’ll kill her. And probably you too.”

The angel nodded. “I understand. I am doing this for Sam as well as you, Dean. Something is wrong. I can feel it. Just let them have their say.”

He was walk down the iron grating before Dean could answer him.

* * *

 

Chuck pounded on the keys but stopped as the pressure at the base of his skull began to pound in rhythm with his heart. The ache in his body, the hot sweat that had drenched him, was nearly gone. The regrets and the guilt hadn’t left, only become deeper in his mind. Now there was only a sense of deep exhaustion, as if someone had taken all his energy and wiped it out easily.

“Just need to rest,” he groaned as he put the laptop on the floor and leaned back on his couch. 

He was just falling asleep when a slim body crawled up his and leaned against him. When he opened his eyes, Sheol was draped across him, her chin propped up on her hand and her soft body pressing into him. 

“You’re making a mistake. All these trials, what is it doing to you? It is making you realize the mistakes you made. It all ends. No matter how you rewrite the story.” She traced her finger over his cropped beard. “You fight me, I fight you.”

“You’re going to end everything.”

“Only to take what you owe me. To bring these poor souls to peace after you’ve abandoned them so cruelly.” She lowered her head and nuzzled his neck before she lay against him. “We don’t need to fight this time.”

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and held her. “Why did we fight in the first place?”

“Chaos always fights Creation, brother.” She took a deep breath and he copied the movement. It felt peaceful to let her comfort him and his eyelids drooped. “It is what we do.” 

“This is my creation,” he murmured with a little bit of awe. For a moment, he actually accepted the role she was giving him, the one he’d denied for so long.

“Let it end.” Her mouth brushed his throbbing jugular. “Just let our pawns lay down and rest. The trial must end.”

But if he did that, then everything would be lost, Chuck realized. He’d fought so long to bring it back. To keep it safe no matter the cost. 

With a curse, he threw Sheol off of him and she landed on her feet, her white gown swirling around her. Chuck scrambled to his feet and fought to get his bathrobe closed before she realized what her closeness had done to him. Already he was actually missing the peace and oblivion she had given him. But with her at a distance, his mind began to clear.

“This is my Creation! I say when it is over. Not Lucifer, not you, not even Death,” he shouted, expecting her to back down from his sudden power. But she raised a hand and he was flung back into the wall, pinned against a bookshelf. The force split the drywall and the books scattered over the room.

Everything in the room seemed to darken around her until she was glowing in the shadows.

“You arrogant ass. You have destroyed and recreated all of these creatures, this very world, because you can never love it enough. You hate it and love it. You wanted something perfect but could not finish your own work! Then you thought to control me as well.” Sheol flung her hand through the air and he crashed headfirst into the opposite shelf. As he lay groaning and bleeding, she stepped slowly towards him and raised her hand again. “I will simply restart this loop.”

“Enough, sister.” Death’s voice was low but both Chuck and Sheol looked up to see him standing nearby. He tapped his cane on the ground and his dark eyes flickered in his thin face. “Do you know that when our kind fight, a galaxy dies with each blow?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sheol snapped and he held up a hand.

“I am not choosing sides in this. I am merely preventing you both from acting rashly. Time loops are messy. You ruin my totals and my schedule. So I suggest you both have a proverbial… time out.” Death tapped his cane again and with a snap Sheol suddenly disappeared into the air. Chuck spat out a mouthful of blood and looked at him, awe and fear in his eyes. 

Death’s look was anything but kind.

“I have given you multiple opportunities. You have the perfect move to make and you failed. Again. Perhaps that is where your children get it from.” Death gestured at his laptop. “There is no shame in admitting when you are stuck in a story.”

“I’m not stuck.”

“Time loops? You are desperate and you reek of it. Make another move. But do it quickly. She can only stay away so long and the longer you give her to plan, the worse the damage. I can only interfere so often. I will warn you that you will not like my next move because _she_ will be upset. _She_ is going to strike you very hard for what you did.”

Death was gone before Chuck could ask what he meant, leaving a scrap of paper behind. Crawling over to it, he turned the paper over and read the gold embossed type slowly.

* * *

  


“All that came from nothing shall return to nothing,” Sam read aloud. Dean and Sam both tried to read it over his shoulder. Sam tossed the envelope at Dean. “So what does that mean? Heap load of nothing? Why are we still debating this? Because Kevin found a note?”

Castiel looked at Dean and the elder Winchester sighed. 

“Sam, I know you want this over with and God knows I do too. But if Cas wants us to hear them out, then we should.” Dean glanced back at Castiel to see the thankfulness in his eyes. “All right. Meg gets déjà vu and nightmares. So?”

“What demon shares dreams with prophets? When I dream, it tends to be prophecy these days. We just told you word for word, the same story of this ending real bad,” Kevin explained patiently. “Then I found a disclaimer, a warning, from God. Not just from Metatron. From God!”

“So the fine print tells us not to do it.” Dean shook his head. “Would have been nice to see that before we started.”

“It wasn’t there before.”

“Great. How much of this tablet don’t you know?”

“Dean, lay off the kid, okay?” Sam rubbed at his eyes. “What happens if the Gates are closed?”

Kevin winced. “It’s not explicit. But the dream that Meg and I shared… experienced.”

“It was reality,” Meg said finally from where she’d been leaning against one of the stacks. “I felt everything, saw everything. And I thought it was déjà vu.”

“So we’re trusting you why?” Dean countered

“Right, because ending the whole world like that is something I want. Makes perfect sense.” She watched the brothers turn back to arguing with Kevin. Castiel stepped close to her side and stared down at her.

“What happened each time?”

“Crowley is made pure. Human. Sometimes Sam died. Both times you died.” She blinked. “The world ended.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Is that a metaphor?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get high up on your horse, angel. It was literal. Everything burns and I don’t get to see the credits and deleted scenes.”

He looked down between them. “So that was why you were so different when you woke up.”

She scoffed at him a little and he lifted his eyes to her face. Seeing what she was trying hard to hide.

It was what he’d felt when he touched her.

“Why does each time start differently then?” Dean asked loudly, and Meg looked away from Castiel.

“The ending changes… maybe how it ends depends on how it is getting rewritten.” Kevin shrugged. “I only think maybe we should follow the warnings. Back off for now.”

“With a half-done, pissed off demon back there. Great. Might even be half-way to pure by now.”

“Pure?” Meg’s teeth ground together. “You can take the demon out of the soul but you can’t always force the evil out of the soul.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Meg pointed at herself. “Not a philosophy student. You figure it out.”

“Listen, you little…” Dean’s voice raised just as Sam’s phone suddenly went off. Groaning, he rolled off his chair and grabbed it from his jacket pocket.

“Yeah?” He listened for a moment. “Wait. What… Chuck?”

Meg glanced at Castiel but both he and Dean were staring incredulously at Sam. Kevin shrugged again and quickly hugged the tablet protectively to his chest. 

“What do you mean? Our help? We’re kind of in the middle of…” Sam frowned into the phone. “What do you mean you know? What…?”

He put the phone down a little and looked at Dean. “Chuck… is alive. Wants us to visit him.”

“Now’s not a good time.”

Sam listened again.

“It’s about the trial. He… he wants us to come see him. With Meg.” 

The demon gave him a look. “Who now?”

“He’s a prophet. Explains how he knows you’re here.”

“So much for the Highlander, there can be only one theory.” Dean nudged Kevin in the ribs. “Your special factor just went down.”

Castiel felt so tense and tight beside her that Meg thought he’d turned into a statue.

“Wait. If he’s a prophet, he can help us,” Dean said and Sam nodded. “He can read the tablet.

“All right. We’ll bring Cas with us. Kevin stays here but we… yeah he has the tab… what do you mean you don’t care. Fine, fine!” Sam made a face, his sallow skin going a little red. “He hung up on me.”

Dean waved his hand. “So. Road trip?”

“Road trip. He gave me an address but nothing else. Typical Chuck I guess. It’s not that far out of state. Couple of hours maybe, if we drive fast.” Sam swayed a little on his feet and Dean grabbed him. 

“You should stay behind.”

“No, I’m fine. I just…”

“Sam. No good to me if we get in trouble and you pass out. Stay here, rest, protect Kevin and keep Crowley chained till we get back. Okay?”

“No. I’m not staying behind again.”

Their eyes met in a silent confrontation before Dean nodded, giving in.

“All right.”

It showed how tired Sam was when he nodded and went to go back to the dungeon and Dean looked at Kevin. “You stay here. Get everything out and research this to hell. I want answers.”

He grabbed his arm and yanked him close. “Keep Crowley locked up and don’t go near him till I get back, you got me? No matter what.”

Kevin swallowed nervously. “Sure.”

Castiel straightened up. “I could get there faster.”

“Yeah, no. That’s sure to start something if Heaven is still watching for you.” Dean grabbed Kevin’s notes from the table. “We drive and we go in with a plan, you got me?”

Castiel’s jaw tensed but he didn’t respond. 

Meg took one look at Dean’s face, saw how ready he was to argue, and rolled her eyes. “Great. Road trip with the Winchesters. If my life had a personal hell, that would be it.”

* * *

 

Death flipped the cellphone shut and put it back in the hand of the corpse who’d dropped dead mere minutes before. Invisible to anyone surrounding the man, he dusted off his hands and gathered up his bag. When he turned around, the soul was standing next to Tessa. He stared at his own body and then at Death, opening his mouth to ask the question they always asked.

Which he didn’t have time for.

“Thank you,” he said. “That was rather convenient, I’d say.”


	16. Rise (When Demons Choose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Meme:Angry with God & Death’s actions, Sheol travels into the depths of Hell to the Cage, where two brothers wait impatiently for freedom. Not knowing what his writing is setting in motion, Chuck is startled by the arrival of Dean and Sam, and terrified by Meg’s presence. Even with his help, there are no real answers for the Winchesters when Sam’s condition worsens. As Castiel tries to guide them all, Meg makes a choice she never expected to make

**In The Lethe**

**Part 9: Rise (When Demons Choose)  
**

Total darkness, relieved only by the long lines of white beams that would pierce it now and then, was below the deepest levels of Hell. Far away from God’s light, from warmth and love, further still from peace, the void was quiet and still. For the first time in centuries, there were no screams, no flames heating the air. The locked door, as invisible at the four walls it guarded, stayed locked, kept secure.

Locking away two brothers who had been destined to fight for the love of their absent father. They had nearly succeeded until the love of two brothers proved stronger.

The Cage had stood, no matter how much power was used to try to break it. The prisoners were strong but what the Cage was made of went behind even them. The invisible bars burned hot and then cold, containing such power that the darkness sometimes shook from the force of their battles. Without forms, their light paced through the darkness, shapeless and restless.

Curled up in the only corner he could find, Adam Milligan lay staring at the shadows. There were no more tears, no more cries for his brothers to save him. When Sam had been jailed there as well, he’d taken some comfort from his presence because the agony and tortured of the archangels had been split between them. Death’s arrival, plucking the soul out of the Cage, had filled him with such hope. Dean had found a way to save them, his brothers, and family mattered to Dean.

The last time he’d cried had been when Death closed the Cage behind himself with Sam tucked safely away in his black bag. When no one had come back for _him_ and Adam had realized that once again he’d been abandoned by his brothers.

Now he only had screams and pain to comfort him.

Lucifer always stirred first, always turned to him first when the stillness in the Cage was too much. Michael would leave him until his frustrations grew and he needed to punish someone. It was when both Archangels took turns that Adam would remember how to scream and beg for mercy.

The hissing at the very beginning was the worst since it always meant pain. Then the flames and the agony, stripping at his soul and burning him until the pain numbed his soul. Here it never ended and the archangels’ fury at being contained was felt in every crevice and depth of his soul. The flaying of Adam Milligan’s soul became their favourite sport. It was a competition for them. Who could inflict the worse pain, who could make him pray for salvation.

When he became too numbed to simple acts of burning, the tortures became creative. Using his brothers, using his mother, his memories as a sort of play on his nerves, one by one being paraded out to hurt him. The visions never tortured him, not really, but when they left it was somehow worse. Letting him lie still, in a heap on the floor of the Cage, was a favourite because with each passing year he would shake, knowing the torture to come. 

Adam’s eyes widened as he saw something move in the shadows that was not an angel. But the hissing was already beginning and he leapt to his feet just as a column of fire split the darkness into brilliant fireworks. The hot wind dragged at his feet, yanking him down until he was sucked into its vortex. Through the flames, he saw vague images with massive sets of wings and incorporeal bodies, the angels’ true forms, watching him just before the flames licked and snarled up his soul.

His screams, no matter how long in the Cage, were always loudest when Michael used fire against him.

 _Because of your brothers, I failed my father’s purpose,_ Michael’s voice snarled in his head. _Because of your utter failure to be a competent vessel, we are trapped. You deserve all of this._

The words never changed and after all this time Adam believed them. A bright flicker to his left as he screamed and howled, as the flames ate at what remained of his soul, meant that Lucifer was watching.

“No,” he said. “I…”

Lucifer’s move was always another pillar of flame that would shoot out and strike his chest, tearing at the centre of his soul. Though he expected it, Adam couldn’t keep his screams in as Lucifer began to stab at him with fire. He felt large talons rake at his soul’s surface, sliding deep inside him and trying to pull.

 _Such sweet music,_ Lucifer’s voice was higher than Michael’s, playful but angry, _the only good thing about you, Adam Milligan, is the way you scream._

 _Scream, Adam,_ Michael demanded. _We’re bored._

As Adam twisted, trying to get free from the sudden grip of celestial power, he heard it. A sound he’d not heard in thousands of years. The Cage door slipping open; it was like a low brass bell booming and then closing. He stared through the flames and the darkness to see a singular beam of light.

A woman stood just within the Cage, her auburn hair shining brilliant red in the light. Her expression was sweet as she looked directly to where the flames were torturing Adam. One hand raised and beckoned to him. 

 _“Come to me.”_ Only her voice was not in his head. It sung through the air and Adam screamed for her help.

Both Archangels released him suddenly, startled by the woman’s arrival, by the first presence they’d felt since Death, and he fell to his stomach. The angels backed way, the hum of their true voices vibrating through the air as they spoke in Enochian to one another. Adam felt only relief as he clawed his way to his knees.

“Please,” he begged, swaying and trying not to collapse. The distance felt immeasurable though she was only feet away. Her eyes were bright and she smiled at him, holding open her arms. Not caring who she was, what she could do, he broke free of Michael’s power and ran as he had not run since Sam had escaped.

Her body slipped into his charred embrace, her own arms wrapping around his corporeal soul. The immediate comfort he felt in her arms replaced the pain, soothed his soul, and he wept as he hadn’t wept before. The coldness he’d shown to the angels, a way of protecting himself, disappeared in her arms. Tucking his head into her neck, Adam shook and begged her to save him. He felt her lips press to his forehead and she rocked him tenderly, like a mother with her child.

“I’m here, Adam, the way your brothers were not. You have earned your rest.” She sighed against him and he clung more desperately to her. Terrified she would leave him and this would be another torture thought up by Lucifer. Her voice hummed in his ear. “Do you want peace? To come to me?”

He nodded and pressed his mouth against her neck, fingers digging hard into her soft body. As if he could burrow beneath her and be saved. She didn’t flinch, simply began to glow brighter.

“Then go home and rest.”

When her mouth gently kissed his forehead, Adam felt flooded by peace and his eyes shut thankfully.

Sheol exhaled softly as the last of Adam Milligan absorbed into her true self. He would take a very long time to heal in Lethe’s waters. He may never even heal, not fully, but she wasn’t about to turn him away. Heaven’s ignorance of his suffering meant he’d be no safer there. He was hers by right and he could be useful to her, so long as he healed and felt peace.

When her eyes opened, they shone bright blue and she tilted her head to look at the darkness. Her attention was drawn by the massive angels flying around her. They were trying to hide their trueforms from her. 

The Enochian slurs were what she expected. They didn’t remember her like this. They were furious she’d taken their toy but they knew she was too strong for them through instinct. One buzzed by her, striking out with fire, and she raised a hand. There was another attack and she flicked her fingers like she would at a bug. 

It was Lucifer that crashed against the barrier of the Cage, his wings suddenly appearing as her power crunched him back. The howling was loud and she knew he was calling for help. As Michael swung into attack, she raised her other hand and pinned him beside his brother. 

She could help but smile as Michael’s rage began to seethe openly on his face.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” Typical. He was always the soldier. The Enochian words were snarled out and she smiled.

“I’m sure you’ll remember that very few can do this to you.”

Lucifer’s voice, once so beautiful, now a ruptured remnant, rasped out, “Michael, it’s her. It’s _her._ ”

The sheer size of them made the Cage shake at their power and Sheol smiled. Those were the Archangels she remembered. Not the ones caged by human vessels or mourning their father’s absence. These warriors were the first she’d known.

“Hello, boys,” she murmured. “I’ve come to discuss your release.”

~~~

Sam jerked awake, gasping for air, and Dean glanced through the passenger window at him. “You okay?”

Sam knew how he looked. Too pale and gaunt and the faint sheen of sweat made him look even sicker than before. He swallowed and wiped at his forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He coughed again and looked up. Dean was gassing up the Impala, having pulled into a highway station, and except for a few trucks the place was empty. Exhausted, Sam unbuckled his seat belt and slowly got out into the drizzling rain. “We stopped?”

“Needed gas and Meg insisted. Said she was starving.”

Sam rubbed at his eyes. “Where’s Cas?”

“With Meg, pulling his guard dog thing. Good thing too. The truckers were eyeing her.”

Sam glanced at him as he stretched. “You worried about Meg?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah right. I think Meg can handle herself. It’s the truckers I feel bad for.” He checked the total, made a face, and continued to fill up. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sam stretch. “What do you think? This whole Chuck calling us after the blue is pretty strange.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Sam admitted. “Case in point is the two in the gas station right now.”

“Yeah I guess but did Chuck sound… off to you on the phone? When you said he was very clear what he wanted, that doesn’t sound like Chuck,” Dean explained.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after what you said, he was less fumbly, more…” Dean waved his hand in the air to try to find the right word, “condescension-y.”

Sam finished stretching his arms and gave Dean a grin. “Maybe that’s because you use words like condescension-y.”

“If you weren’t already near death, I’d kill you.” The glare he got from his brother made it worth it but Dean finally smiled, focussing on pumping gas again. “You okay? You look pretty worn out. Bad dreams?

“Nah, not exactly. Just… a feeling.”

“Yeah? What kind?” Dean was trying to get the total to an even number and failing.

“Nothing really clear. Just a bad vibe.” Sam looked down at his palm and pressed his fingers into the centre of it. The spark of pain from the grip made him sigh thankfully. “I’m gonna go buy a Red Bull, you want anything?”

“Pie?” Dean asked eagerly and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because that is such a great choice right now.” He started to walk towards the store. “You need a new thing, Dean.”

“Shut up, I never get pie,” Dean grumbled to himself. 

~~

Meg leaned against the coffee counter, flipping through the gossip magazine half-heartedly. “Gay, pregnant, secretly married, Leviathan, demon, pregnant, wishes he was the one pregnant.” 

Really, these things were so predictable.

The clerk, a tattooed boy with grease stains on his vest, cleared his throat. “This ain’t a library.”

Meg turned and looked over her shoulder at him. “You don’t say,” she answered and her eyes slid to black and then brown so fast that he stammered. Tossing the magazine on the counter, she wandered back towards the freezer.

“That was unkind. You frightened him.” Castiel’s sudden appearance behind her made her grin at his reflection in the security camera.

“Demon, remember? I don’t have a kind bone in my body.” She picked up a bag of pretzels and pulled it open, scarfing down a few. Castiel huffed a little, clearly wanting to comment, and she turned, walking backwards. She held out the bag to him but he didn’t take one, just followed her. Popping another into her mouth, Meg watched Castiel’s obvious discomfort.

“You should try to eat something healthier for you both. Like…” He looked at the shelves of junk food, searching for something. To him, nothing looked appetizing. He grabbed the first jar on the lowest shelves and held it out to her. Meg eyed the label before giving him a confused smirk.

“Peanut butter?”

“It is organic,” Castiel pointed out. “Far better for you than.” He squinted at the jar on the top shelf. “Marshmallow Fluff.”

“Got that right,” she muttered, handing him the pretzel bag and unscrewing the cap of the peanut butter. She scooped a bit out on her finger and popped it in her mouth. Shrugging, she did it again. “Not bad.”

Her stomach’s impatient rumbling was loud enough that Castiel stared at her. Knowing he wasn’t going to let it go made it more fun to toy with him. She rolled her eyes before wiping her finger on the counter and screwing the cap back on the jar. 

“Hell, I did not miss being hungry.” When she looked at him, Castiel was still staring at her wide-eyed. “What?”

His eyes dropped from her mouth. “Nothing.”

Meg shoved the jar into his hand and continued down the aisles. Castiel sighed and picked up a few apples from the tiny fresh fruit section.

“Too much sugar and fat may be…”

“Don’t do it, feathers. Just don’t,” she warned. “Lesson one? Don’t tell a girl what she wants to eat will make her fat.”

Castiel watched her pick out a veggie burrito from the freezer. “Your body is craving nutrients.”

She tossed a burrito into the microwave and hopped up onto the counter. With how small her meatsuit was, she looked almost girlish compared to what she really was. Castiel shook his head and set her haphazardly chosen groceries beside her. He eyed the clerk, who was still looking shaken up by Meg, and then looked back at her.

“You should eat better.”

“Yeah?” She looked up at the fluorescent lights. “You took all my alcohol away.”

“It’s for your own good. It was ruining your vessel’s liver anyway.”

“So? Means I get to go sober cold turkey and that sucks. You want to carry around the kidney bean? Feel free.” As if to make him, she grabbed his hand and put it on her stomach. “Come on, angel face. Suck it in and you can be the incubator.”

Castiel’s eyes softened a little and his thumb drew a circle on her stomach. Even through the material she felt her skin prickle His gaze never left her face and she realized what he was feeling under her shirt. Meg’s breath hissed out in a long exhale and she shoved his hand off.

“Never mind.”

“Were you dreaming again? In the Impala? You were making noises,” he asked when the microwave beeped. Meg stared at him as she leaned over and gingerly grabbed the burrito out of it. She unwrapped it slowly and held it up between them a little. She nibbled on her lower lip as she toyed with the paper wrapping, making a show of answering.

“Oh, yeah.”

The angel nodded, glad she was telling him something. “About what?”

Meg’s grin was slow and seductive. “About something long…” she leaned towards him and Castiel’s eyes widened as her head tilted in angle to his own. “Filling.” Her lips just brushed his and he felt her breathe out against his mouth. “Hot.”

He closed his eyes a little, anticipating her next move.

The burrito suddenly popped up between them and she took a large bite.

“I was hungry for something good, what can I say?” she asked, voice garbled by the food. She hopped off the counter and he stared in surprise after her as she walked off to the front of the store. Puzzled by the change of mood, he forced himself to take a moment and breathe.

The door jangled open and Sam bumped into Meg as she passed him. The pair looked each other up and down before he left her at the front and headed for the fridge. The clerk looked at Meg, not daring to say anything as she leaned on the counter and started to flip through a porn magazine.

Castiel recovered enough to follow Sam around, still holding Meg’s groceries in his arms. “You were dreaming as well.”

“Yeah I guess,” Sam said shortly, not wanting to have this conversation. Castiel sighed and watched him grab three Red Bulls.

“Sam. I know you were dreaming of Hell. Of the Cage. It was all I could feel from you. Your pain.”

The taller man slammed the door shut and whirled on him. “Stay out of my head, Cas!”

Surprised at Sam’s anger, Castiel backed off and watched him stalk through the store. He slapped a bill on the counter beside Meg and growled at the clerk to keep the change. The demon didn’t look up from the magazine though Sam glanced and his eyes widened a little. He nearly sprinted out of the store.

The angel sidled up beside Meg, hoping at least she wasn’t angry with him, and his eyes widened at the page she was looking at. The clerk was trying not to subtly to look as well and Castiel jerked his head up, glaring at him.

“That’ll be $14.50,” the clerk stammered nervously.

Meg swivelled the magazine over to Castiel. “What do you think?”

He tried not to look but she tapped the page and he couldn’t help himself. A model dressed as a nurse was straddling a man while holding a paddle in her hand, and there were marks all over their skin. Castiel swallowed loudly and looked away.

“They look somewhat uncomfortable.”

“Well, light domination does that to humans.” The clerk cleared his throat and Meg closed the magazine. “Pay the man, Clarence. Then he can look at the porn in peace.”

She grabbed an apple from Castiel’s pile of food as he dug into his coat pocket, finding rumpled bills. “Keep the change,” he offered, mimicking Sam and the clerk waved them off.

“Freaks,” he muttered under his breath and Meg grinned, sinking her teeth into the apple. Castiel watched her and she winked at the clerk.

“You have no idea, sweetheart. Come on, angel.”

Castiel gave the clerk another apologetic look and followed her out the door carrying the grocery bag. The clerk sighed, shaking his head.

At the back of the store, the storage room opened and two skinny young men came out. Their eyes were black and the clerk nervously backed up at the sight. The first demon smirked and looked out at the Impala as it pulled out of parking lot. 

“So the bitch is hanging around the Winchesters again.”

“Knows where the boss is I bet,” the second demon muttered. The first nodded.

“Yeah. Get the car.”

~~~

The long drive from the gas station to Chuck’s was tense. Dean refused to let Sam drive though the long hours were starting to exhaust him. With Sam too angry and sick to rest and Meg ignoring him, Castiel focussed his attention on Dean. He watched him as discreetly as he could; something else was making him look tired and worried. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, looked around everywhere as if expecting someone to fall out of the sky in front of the car, and tried to ignore everyone.

When his green eyes met Castiel’s through the rear-view, the angel saw a sadness there that nearly stole his breath.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean said over his shoulder. “And we’re nearly there.”

Castiel’s eyes never strayed from the reflection. “And once we get there?”

“We figure out why closing the Gates gets the big thumbs down from a prophet and a demon, hopefully. And what is so important for Chuck to come out of hiding.” To close the conversation, he reached over and turned up the radio. Castiel stared hard at him, trying to will him into talking but Dean was ignoring him again.

What he wouldn’t give for Dean to yell at him right now.

Castiel leaned back and sighed. The silence in the car was awkward. Without much else to do, he looked out the rear window and saw the headlights of another car following them at a distance. Squinting, he could just make out the outline of the driver. 

"They’ve been following us for a while," Meg said suddenly and Dean’s head jerked at the same time as Castiel’s.

"What? Who?" He looked at the rear-view. "Meg?"

"Demons. I felt them at the gas station." She looked back with the angel. "Black eyes I bet. Some of Crowley’s men."

"Shit." Dean’s hand went unconsciously for the knife in his belt. "Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner?"

"Think it over. If they retrace your steps to the bunker, who are they going to find to launch an assault on? Least you boys can fight them off. Kevin would just have to Home Alone their asses."

"She’s got a point," Sam said.

"But we’re taking them towards Chuck," Dean argued. As annoyed as he was with Meg, Castiel kept himself calm.

"I’ll take care of it. But if they’ve sent for others, then it will make them suspicious," he said, looking at Meg. "You should have spoken up."

She wrinkled her nose. “I assumed you boys were on the radar for demons. Why didn’t you notice them? I can’t be the only brains in this unhappy foursome.”

"Gonna kill her one day," Dean muttered under his breath as he turned the Impala down a side street to head for the highway.

~~~~

Lethe was cooler today, a sign that Sheol was planning. The souls were drifting through their usual process: finding areas to rest in, be cleansed. Everything stayed the same as they forgot. She let her power flux and drift, wrapping them all up in comforting tendrils of peace. Standing in the centre of her favourite place, at the very heart of Oblivion, she let herself flicker between her chosen human body and her true glory.

The white light pooled in, throwing every shadow into light and she turned at the soft wheezing breath close by.

“Why are we here?” It was asked in Enochian first, then English, as Michael woke from the sleep she’d put him in. “Where?”

He opened his eyes and saw her immediately. “You.”

“Michael. God’s Sword. You remember me.”

“Yes,” he whispered and his head bowed a little. “I remember you.”

Her head tilted and she turned to look at the other Archangel, long since awake and staring out the open balcony at the souls drifting over the beach. “And you, Lucifer?”

“Of all the things to forget….” He turned towards her and deep-set eyes snared hers. “I don’t think I’d forget you.”

Her smile was slow. “Good.”

“We’re free,” Michael looked around. “We’re no longer bound.”

Sheol watched the brothers stare at each other. It would be too much work ruined if she let them plunder Earth for vessels, so here she had chosen forms for them to use. Familiar ones. Michael was settled into the shape of a young man with sad blue eyes, Adam’s form, while Lucifer remained in the body of a blonde man with sad eyes, deep lines etched in his skin.

 _Vessels_ , Sheol thought. They’d hunt to the ends of their lives for the perfect forms to fight with. Ruining lives if they had to. Angels really were not much better than demons.

The excitement between them was obvious. They thought to start their little game again.

“Do not even think it,” she warned. “You are my guests here but I’m not stupid enough to release you, not totally.”

Lucifer raised his hand towards her, like a child testing its mother, and she eyed him. He stuttered and gasped at the sudden feeling that he was being held down.

“We’re… we’re still caged.”

As long as the Cage still stood, they’d never escape its restraint.

“Yes. It will be part of you and it will keep you both from ruining everything.” Michael started forward and almost fell to his knees when her power lashed out at him. “I watched your creation, boys. Do not make me responsible for your deaths.”

“What do you want?” Michael demanded. “I should return to Heaven, to begin what our father wanted.”

“What your father wanted? Even he doesn’t know what that is,” Sheol snapped and she took a seat on her divan. The Apocalypse, no matter what side won, would never end this stupidity. “No. The end of the Earth happens on my terms. Not his. And his time is up.”

Michael was fighting her, she could feel it. God had created his perfect obedient son in the most neglected of Archangels.

“You are both to rest here and recover from your imprisonment. Lethe will heal your more obvious wounds.”

“Why are you doing this?” Michael tried again and Lucifer watched them both, as if trying to decide who to side with. He was more tortured than Michael, Sheol could tell, but because of his isolation. He’d been kept reined in too long. 

“I need your help and in return I’ll give you what you need. Your freedom.”

“Why would I help you? Father said you were dangerous.” 

He was brave, she thought, amused as she watched him walk towards her. All swirling Angelic power and righteousness. Both brothers separate were dangerous and together they were wonderfully co-dependent.

If she could repair that and keep her plans in order, the brothers together would be what she needed. But first…. She walked to Michael and reached up to stroke his face.

“Do not think to control me, Michael,” she warned and he stared at her. “Because you will not like how that ends. You both know how this must be. Your little Apocalypse was just a smoke blind to the real problem.”

Lucifer stirred. 

“Stay here and rest,” she said as she began to fade out. “And consider that I can put you back in your cage, without your chew-toy to keep you company this time. Consider an eternity spent in each other’s company, with only your righteousness to comfort you.”

~~~~

The old house was just like Chuck’s old home, right down to the chipped paint and rickety fence. It was strange because the small town was nowhere near where they’d last seen Chuck. Dean made a face as he looked around the quiet street and tried to make sure the demons that had followed them weren’t about to make their presence known. Castiel walked ahead, also on the look out, while Sam and Meg brought up the rear. 

The overgrown lawn and the overstuffed mailbox made Meg snort. “Right. We’re sure he’s actually here? Looks nearly abandoned to me.”

Sam shrugged and looked as well, picking up a piece of mail. “Mail’s current. We know that Chuck’s a little eccentric.”

“A little?” Dean asked.

“Okay, a lot.”

“Someone fill me in. Who is this Chuck?”

Castiel opened the small gate. “He’s a prophet of the Lord.”

“Yeah that tells me nothing. Prophets are a dime a dozen in Winchester land.” Meg waited as Dean passed her. “There’s got to be something more.”

“He’s a writer. He wrote some books about, well, us.” Sam winced. “Got pretty popular eventually.”

“What? He interviewed you on how to get a luxurious mane in 5 easy steps or how to act like a prissy hunter in two?” Meg grumbled and Dean looked over his shoulder at her.

“Books about us hunting. Sometimes before it happened. Last time we saw him was Apocalypse, so you can guess I thought he was dead.”

Meg finally walked through the gate and she looked up at Castiel. “So why do I need to be here if he’s into writing Dean and Sam fiction?”

“I don’t know. Though you were in a few of his books before. I just hadn’t realized it at the time,” he admitted. Meg stared at him but he was walking down the sidewalk to the porch before she could ask what he meant.

Dean rang the doorbell first and after a few long moments he shook his head. “We sure he’s home even?”

Sam gave him a look. “Since when does Chuck leave the house?”

“Yeah, good point.”

Frustrated, Castiel moved in front and banged on the door. He tilted his head. “I can hear someone moving.”

Meg leaned against the wobbly porch railing. “Super. Some time today would be nice.”

The slow click of a multitude of locks being undone made Castiel lean back and nod in satisfaction.

“I believe he’s in.”

The door was pulled open slowly and a familiar sight of the scruffy Chuck, complete with a pen in his mouth and a scruffy bathrobe, made Dean roll his eyes.

“Look, Ned, for the last time, I did not steal your paper and-.” Chuck looked up from the stack of papers he was reading. His eyes landed on Dean and Sam first, then on Castiel. With her back to them behind Sam, Meg was out of sight. The pen fell from Chuck’s mouth. “Oh fuck.”

“That’s a great welcome, prophet boy,” Dean said and he shouldered  by the smaller man. Chuck gaped at him and got out of the way as Sam followed his brother in. His squeak was loud as he almost pressed against the wall.

“Sam… Dean! What the hell are you doing here?” He quickly scurried ahead of them to try to block them from his living room. “I mean it’s been years.”

“Was hoping you’d tell us why we’re here,” Sam said, staring down at him. “Out of the blue phone calls don’t happen that often.”

“Phone call? I mean what? I…” Chuck stopped as Castiel followed them in. “Castiel, you’re… I mean you’re…you… you’re here. With the Winchesters.”

The angel blinked. “Of course.”

“That’s… that’s great! I mean I thought it was hit and miss with you for a while there.” Chuck was starting to babble and Dean rolled his eyes, heading into the living room. As his front door clicked shut, Chuck stared at Meg when she appeared at Sam’s shoulder, looking dwarfed by the larger man. She looked around the house and then straight at Chuck.

“Oh… fuck,” Chuck whispered, stumbling back into the wall. Meg frowned at him.

“This is a prophet?”

“According to Cas, you should have seen Luke,” Dean called out. Castiel glanced at him, delighted.

“You remember that.”

“Was one of your more choice moments, yeah,” the Winchester admitted. Chuck realized that he was staring at Meg, mouth hanging open, when Castiel looked at him curiously before looking back at Meg. The demon glanced up at him and he shrugged.

“He’s seen demons before, I believe. Maybe it’s your vessel.”

Meg glanced down. “No additional cleavage showing.”

“Sorry it’s just… is this… This is Meg, right?”

She stared at Chuck. “You know my name?”

“Uh… well…”

“Can we please skip it?” Sam snapped. “Chuck, Meg. She’ll probably rip your throat out if she doesn’t like you. Meg, Chuck. He’s a writer. And smells like he’s been drinking again.”

“I have not!” Chuck protested, shoving his feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and going into his living room. “And none of you have explained why you are here.”

“You called me.” Sam took an armchair beside Dean’s. “Why?”

“I didn’t call you. I don’t even know your number!” He was starting to pace and Meg leaned against the wall. “Why the hell are you here?”

“Look, we just had a long drive, and before that we were doing the trials to close the Gates of Hell and…”

“Wait what? That’s for real? You’re still going to do that?” Chuck sounded astounded and Castiel frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Chuck nervously looked down and then at Meg, then away. She was staring at the pile of notes he’d tossed on the window table, clearly reading it.

Dean followed his gaze. “Is she making you nervous?”

“A little. Look, I mean I didn’t call you so if you want to clear out.” Chuck waved his hand at Meg. “All of you.”

“Sorry. I’m with Team Dumbasses here until I know why we’re here,” she countered with mocking sweetness. “Unless you have a real good reason why I should be gone.”

He tried hard to glare at her.  “You’re not supposed to be here, you’re supposed to be - doing whatever it is pregnant women do when - “

Meg’s head jerked up. “Excuse me?”

Chuck immediately leaned back against the wall. “Wh - I didn’t mean it like-”

Castiel caught Meg’s arm and stopped her from moving forward. She shoved him off and noticed another pile of papers, this time with her name scrawled all on them. It looked like a novel that was being edited.

“Wait, so you are still getting visions?” Sam scoffed. “You knew we were doing something. And you know that Meg is pregnant? It’s not like she’s super showing.”

Castiel glanced at her and had to agree.

Sheepishly, the prophet rubbed at the back of his neck. “… Maybe. It’s kinda, sorta, really classified.”

Dean glared at him. “You’re not the FBI, Chuck.”

Grabbing a paper from the discard pile, Meg saw her name again and again. The page was dated weeks ago from the printer. The Winchesters and Castiel continued to try to force Chuck to tell them why they were here if he hadn’t been the one to call, but she tuned them out. The type-filled page was about her, about what was happening to her. Her breathing started to come faster and faster the more she read. Jumbled sections, outlines, notes, all of it was about her. _“Demons don’t often dream but, thanks to the grace she’d been touched with, Meg became an exception…” “Meg felt the new life within her with a mixture of fear and loathing, not sure what was happening to her. “Meg knew that was inside of her was going to be powerful. But why a demon and an angel? Why now?”_

The entire page was devoted to scenes about her, even outlining the night she’d spent with Castiel trying to forget Lethe and then fractionating off into ideas of her pregnancy with question marks.

“You knew.” Her voice was small and only Castiel heard her. He turned his head to check and saw Meg crumpling the paper in her hand. “Fucking Hell.” All the men looked at her and her eyes went to black as she focussed on Chuck. “You knew? You knew this was going to happen?”

He stood near the couch and held out his hands to try to look innocent.

“I may have had an idea.”

“An idea? You knew it was going to happen. It’s all on these pages! So this is all some sick joke of a God and some prophet?” Her hand grabbed a letter opener from a side table and his eyes widened. Dean debated on interfering but then grinned and sat back, winking at Sam.

“Please don’t do the hurting thing, I’ve had a really bad week already.” He winced in memory of Sheol throwing him against the wall.

“Oh, it’s about to get worse.” She started for him and Castiel stepped in front of her. “You son of a bitch.”

“Meg, you cannot stab the prophet! I can’t let you,” he warned, all of his training and instinct screaming at him to fight her. She glared up at him and threw the knife on the floor. But before he could move she charged by him and slammed her fist into Chuck’s scruffy jaw.

He went flying back on the couch and Meg landed on top of him. Castiel launched himself at her to save Chuck and Dean chuckled at the sight of him struggling with the tiny demon.

Meg grabbed fistfuls of Chuck’s robe and hauled him up towards her, shaking him. 

“This was all some joke to God, wasn’t it? See if we can fuck more with a demon, huh!” Ignoring Castiel landing against her back, Meg slammed her fist down and Chuck managed to jerk his head out of the way so her fist broke the frame behind his head. Arm around her waist, Castiel hauled her off just enough that Chuck could get up a little. 

“I never thought I’d meet some psycho demon hanging around you guys!” he shouted at the laughing Dean.

With a growl, Meg curved her fingers into another fist and brutally punched him in the nose. The crunch of bone was loud and he went flying over the back of the couch from the force of the blow. Castiel grappled with Meg, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him.

“Stop it! He’s not who made you pregnant,” he hissed in her ear. “It’s not his fault.”

“All of that writing, that entire thing, he knew what was happening. Knew Crowley would find me, knew everything,” she snapped, squirming, and he simply squeezed his arms around her. As disgusted as he was with Chuck’s clear disregard for what his writing could do and prevent, he couldn’t let her kill the man.

“And killing him won’t help.” He walked backwards, dragging her back with him. Dean had his feet propped up on the coffee table, Sam was half-asleep despite the fuss, and Chuck was whimpering behind couch. Castiel tried to soothe her with his voice instead. “Calm down.”

Meg twitched in his arms. She was still putting up enough of a fight that he kept walking backwards, trying to put as much distance between her and the prophet.

“I want to kill him.”

“No.” 

Dean eyed them both. “Maybe you should count to a hundred.”

“Screw off, Winchester.” Meg managed to get out of Castiel’s arms but made no move towards Chuck. “He knew!”

“Meg, I don’t…”

“Your God had this all planned out, huh? Rather than tell you, who still loves Him for whatever reason, or even Tran, he had some drunk, has-been writer make it all into some melodramatic pulp fiction!”

Castiel flinched. “Meg.”

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Just don’t. I was stupid to think I’d get any answers that didn’t make me into a damn inside joke.”

“Get out!” Chuck was getting to his feet, his nose still squirting out blood. “All of you! I don’t want you here!”

Oddly, the minute he spoke, the entire house seemed to pulse and Dean found himself actually getting to his feet. “Cas, get her out of here.”

But the demon was already shoving past, slamming the front door in Castiel’s face. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Well, that was dramatic."

"I mean it!" Chuck’s voice wavered a little. "Get out!"

"Well, that seems like a bad idea right now." Sam was finally speaking though he didn’t move from the couch. He was looking at the window. “We got bigger problems.”

Dean followed his gaze to see that in the house next door the lights were flickering on and off, and outside the streetlights were starting to do the same. Castiel stared as well and then at the shut door. 

“Meg…”

He blinked out, leaving Dean and Sam scrambling to follow.

~~~~

“Son of a bitch!” Meg snapped at herself, impatiently making her way to the Impala. “Damn it!”

Her power flexed out and she destroyed Chuck’s mail box in the blink of an eye. With all the paper mail in it, it was easy to set on fire. Childish but it made her feel better. The next debate was whether setting his front lawn on fire would get her stabbed.

The lamplight overhead started to flicker and buzz and she slowed down, staring at the lights. Her skin crawled and she sighed, shaking her head before she immediately turned to face three demons just behind her. Her hand raised too late but the force of a blow sent her back into the tree. It splintered under the impact of her body and as she picked herself up she recognized the demons immediately.

Crowley’s loyalists.

“Here’s a surprise. Meg hanging around the Winchesters and their pet angel still, huh?”  the smallest one asked and she backed up a few steps. The others staggered around her. “Where’s Crowley?”

“What happened? You lose your precious King?” she asked and he tensed.

“Where?”

She only smirked and he nodded at the one closest to her.

He got within arms reach of her when Meg ducked under and slammed her elbow into his nose. Despite how much bigger he was, she managed to get his neck in her arms before he could get a good grip. But before she could snap his neck, his hands found their way to her arm and twisted until the bones cracked.

A fifth hand came out of nowhere onto the demon’s forehead and she had to shut her eyes against the glow of light. The hold on her arm released and she fell to her back against the tree.

Castiel stared at her for a moment before looking back at the two demons. They cursed at him before charging forward and he moved fast, grabbing the larger of them by the arm. The demon yanked back and swung out, grabbing him by his throat. Meg darted forward, twisting under Castiel’s arm, fingers snatching his angel sword from the holster.

Castiel moved just enough that she could bury the blade into the demon’s stomach. He gave a startled gasp as orange sparks lit him up and then he fell back, letting his hands go. 

The last demon, the small one that had spoken, opened his mouth and flung his head back. But before a trace of howling black smoke could escape, immediate sparks went flying through his meatsuit. Standing behind him, Dean kept the blade buried deep into his back.

“Nice try.” Once the demon stopped twitching, he tossed the body onto the other ones. Sniffing, he looked at Meg. “So, you done with the temper tantrum?”

Behind Dean, Sam rolled his eyes. “Let’s get rid of these bodies before someone notices.”

As the brothers began to stack them up for him to dispose of, Castiel reached down and helped Meg up. She refused to look at him, gingerly wiped at her bloody lip and rubbed at the bruised skin on her cheek with her good hand.

“Are you hurt?” he asked and he took her wrist in hand. Gently, he turned it over and watched her face as she winced. “It’s broken.”

“It’s not bad. Had a lot worse and healed fast.” She jerked her chin to the bodies. “Get rid of them.”

Castiel stared at her and she finally looked at him.

“I’m not running off and I won’t kill him. Okay?” she snapped and he nodded.

“Fine.”

Before Dean could comment, he was gone with the unfortunate bodies they’d collected.

“Man this day is already getting too long.”

~~

The shouting hadn’t stopped in the hours since Dean and the others had left. Lying in his bed, Kevin put his pillow over his head and grit his teeth together. He’d figured it would be safer to just stay in his room, to hide from Crowley’s presence.

If the shouting was bad, the singing was worse.

Kevin knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get him to come to the dungeon, to let him out, to goad him. As much as Kevin wanted to kill him, he kept to his room or the kitchen.

He was safer that way.

The only time he left his bed was to get food and already his stomach was starting to rumble. He need to go out to get food. He just needed to get _out_. As Crowley began another loud rendition of “I am slowly going crazy”, Kevin grabbed the bag he had the tablet in and slung it over his shoulder. 

Maybe he’d make it out to get something more fresh than frozen dinners.

Making a face, he yanked open his door and stepped out into…

A pizzeria.

Kevin blinked at the abrupt change. He hadn’t even felt like he was moving but he was somewhere totally new. Where was the hallway? The bunker?

This place was an old pizzeria deli, complete with rickety looking chairs, checkered tablecloths, and stacks of dishes in the corner. Even the smell of pizza was deliciously overwhelming. Confused, Kevin took another step through the door he’d come through and swallowed nervously. Without thinking, he let the bag fall from his numb fingers and it cracked the tile floor when it landed.

“You should be far more careful with that.” The dry voice, cultured but bored, made him jump and grab for the bag.

The one person eating at the table by the window looked over at him and he nervously grabbed at the bag as he tried to see who it was. A large pan of gooey pizza, smell of heavy sauce and cheese, was in front of him and Kevin unconsciously licked his lips.

“Come along. You must be hungry and I do like company on occasion.”

Kevin found his feet moving almost of their own accord and he shuffled forward. When he looked to the side, he saw several people lying on the floor behind the counter. Dead. Swallowing down the urge to vomit, he stumbled until he nearly fell into the chair across from the man.

“I quite enjoy this place. Though the staff turnover is remarkably high.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said, eyeing a customer who had died and faceplanted into their pizza. 

The thin fingers carefully put fork and knife down and he stared into two impossibly dark and cold eyes. “So, Kevin Tran. I’ve heard a lot about you. Mostly through secondary sources, of course, but they have been interesting stories nonetheless.”

Kevin licked his lips again as the man put a thick piece of pizza before him. 

“You must be hungry. As I recall, prophets have a bad habit of malnourishment and drinking to excess. You are only hungry, I hope. The alcohol is what will kill you.” The man stared at him until Kevin finally found his voice. The storm starting to rumble outside was loud enough that he had to really focus on the man.

“Who are you?”

“Someone you and every other of your kind is destined to meet, sooner or later.”

Kevin stared at him and felt a prickle of awareness up his spine, like a cold finger poking him. He knew this man. 

“Death.”

“How bright you are.” The entity nearly smiled. “Yes. And I need to speak to you. About that very sacred charge of yours.”

“Wait, you’re Death and you want to talk to me about the word of God?” Kevin blinked. “I am insane.”

Death ignored that. “I attempted to do so with the Winchesters, but neither seemed to grasp the subject matter. You are, as I’ve heard, in ‘advanced placement’, are you not?”

“Yeah.” 

“Eat. We’ll talk as you do so.” Death waited patiently until Kevin finally began to eat the thick slice of pizza he’d been given. The prophet tried to hide how badly he wanted to devour the entire tray by forcing himself to take small bites. “I assume you realized your dreams of the world ending were actual truth, not just nightmares. Since the demon had the same ones?”

Kevin nodded, chewing slowly so he didn’t have to talk.

“Excellent. So I am sure you are wondering what is causing it. Or why I am involved at all.” Those knowing eyes went over Kevin’s face. “You see, Kevin, at my age, where I barely remember the beginning, I have no need for such stupidity. You all have been very stupid.” Death folded his hands on the table. “And I am becoming rather annoyed with how much I have had to interfere.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Why would closing the Gates of Hell cause destruction?” Death asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Basic cooking 101. You put a lid on something too hot and it will?”

“Boil over.” Kevin thought it over. “Because of… Heat?”

Death waited patiently.

“I mean, a sort of overflow effect. If Hell is full, thanks to what Crowley’s done, then something else takes hold. It can’t be capped because of…” He stammered over it. “Because it was never meant to be.”

“Very clever.”

“The tablets aren’t instructions, are they?” 

“Some are. Some aren’t. Unfortunately, the original agreement was that if certain things are carried out and fail or succeed, then this world ends.”

“Whose agreement?”

“God’s of course.”

Kevin almost laughed, setting his fork down. “God answers to someone?”

“Don’t we all?” Death settled back in his chair. “Creation has its price. As do all things. Do you really think your world is the first of its kind? The only of its kind? The only thing that makes yours exceptional is the amount of time put into it recently, before its abandonment. And the fact that God’s heart was broken over its price.”

Death watched him finish the pizza slice in silence.

“Of course, you have to understand that is very much outside my schedule or my interests typically. But God and his proverbial wit has frustrated the wrong ‘person’ and this time, it isn’t me. But someone who directly affects what I do.”

“So what do we do? If we don’t finish the trials, they’re half-done and Sam will die.” Kevin pushed the plate away and Death smiled. “We can’t finish the trials. I mean. I did all this work to save the world so I’d have something to come back to!”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. Just one very important thing? If you close one door, something else has to open. Conversely, if you destroy a contract, something else has to be in its place. It is all about balance.” Death’s expression left and Kevin shuddered at the way he was stared at. “Perhaps you need to see if the angel tablet says how to go about this all the correct way.”

“The angel tablet? Why would they be connected?” He rolled his eyes. “And even if it did say something, Cas has that hidden.”

“In such an obvious place that it is a wonder none of you even think to look harder. Its been staring Dean Winchester in the face, so to speak, for weeks now.”

Kevin stood up, shaking but willing to face Death down. “You think you’re helpful? Why do you care?”

“Oh I don’t. This is all rather amusing to watch.” He tilted his head back. “You are a very interesting prophet, Kevin Tran. But you don’t think it is the least bit curious that in a system where only one of you is allowed into existence, that another prophet has appeared?”

Kevin picked up his bag and frowned. “What do you mean? They… Chuck is older than me from what Sam said.”

“Yes. He is far older than you. Than many of you. And far more deadly than any can imagine. You could almost say that he isn’t a prophet at all.”

Before he could respond, Kevin was snapped back into the bunker. He felt more confused than ever as he took in the familiar walls and heard the familiar hum of lights and Crowley’s impatient yelling. That purpose came back though. None of it mattered. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the tablet and stared at it. 

“I guess I’m not done after all.”

~~~

Castiel wrapped Meg’s wrist before joining the Winchesters back in the living room. She’d been strangely quiet since the attack and he had checked her carefully to be sure nothing else had been damaged. Chuck’s attempt to keep them out he’d ignored and he put Meg in the study instead, where he thought she’d be safe.

“Cuddles with Castiel as therapy, huh?” she’d asked caustically when he had told her to sit on the couch. He’d ignored that comment before he retrieved what first aid he could find.

The way she kept looking at anything but him reminded Castiel of all those long months before. Irritated and frustrated by it, he took longer than he had to until she started to respond to his questions again.

“Told you it would heal on its own,” she muttered, watching him splint her wrist. The bones ached as her power struggled to heal it over fast and he was remarkably gentle.

“I know.” He snipped the gauze. “But I like to be sure you’re comfortable.”

“Sometimes I think your Pops would be rolling over in his grave with how nice you are to a demon.”

Castiel shrugged and chose to ignore her blasphemy. “Angels were told to protect and love all of God’s creatures. Sometimes we forget that but something makes us remember, eventually.” 

She stared at the top of his head as he ran his fingers over the healing bones in her wrist. “You ever get tired of doing that volunteer duty?”

Castiel glanced up at her, eyes searching her face. “Who said that what I’m doing for you was out of duty?”

The silence was sudden and unbearable but he kept hold of her arm, fingers tracing the delicate bones beneath her skin. Meg’s face closed off and she looked away. “You should go interrogate the prophet. I’ll be here, pretending I don’t exist.”

Whether he noticed the abrupt change in subject, it wasn’t obvious. As he stood up, Meg watched him closely and then shook her head. He paused at the sliding door when she cleared her throat. “But really, Clarence. Do you ever stop and think ‘Why?’”

“Sometimes. Mostly I am preoccupied trying to keep up with you at the same time that I am trying to protect you.”

“Minute the kid is out, I’m a goner,” she muttered and he sighed. 

“I said I would protect you. Things like that I don’t take lightly.” He opened the door before he looked at her again.

“Is she all right?” he asked. “The fall you took…”

“Who? Oh.” She gave her stomach a look. “Safer than most of us, I guess.”

“Good. I’ll… I’ll see what I can learn from Chuck about why, if that would make it easier for you.” He was fidgeting again and Meg nodded.

“Yeah, thanks.” Not wanting him to see how disturbed she was, wanting to think this all out for herself, she shut her eyes and leaned back against the back of the couch. 

When the door clicked shut, she opened her eyes and sighed. 

“What the hell, Clarence.”

~~~

“Look, don’t goddamn play games!” Dean was mid argument with Chuck when Castiel took his place near the bookshelf in the living room.

“I’m not! I did not call you! I wouldn’t call you.” Chuck was flinging his notes every which way. As if he was going to find a phone record to prove it.

“Someone did.”

Sam rubbed at his eyes. “Okay, focus. Chuck’s had some visions about this all, and he knows about the trial. So Meg and Kevin both had dreams about the world ending when the demon trial is completed. How does that work?”

Chuck found the notes he was looking for and sat in an armchair. “From what I’ve seen… certain tablets are trials, but also part of a larger contract. They’re also ways of ending everything. All because of an Entity known as Oblivion.”

Only Castiel perked up at that. He squinted a little at Chuck, no longer distracted by his concern over Sam or Meg.

“What, like a god? One of the pagan ones?” Dean asked.

Chuck grabbed his glasses. “No. She’s been called a lot of names. Oblivion, Chaos… Sheol. Not sure which is the right one.” He rubbed at his cheek thoughtfully. “She’s not even really a person. Just takes that form. She’s a being. Like God or Death. She’s older than the idea of gods and monsters, far more complex and far more powerful. Wonderful and dangerous.”

“Sounds like you got a crush already,” was the mutter from Sam and Chuck sputtered.

“I do not!” He took a deep breath. “Anyway. She’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s willing to destroy the world. That’s her thing. Her only purpose.” The venom in his voice made Castiel look at him curiously. “All things go back to Death, Creation, Chaos. She is essentially Chaos because she is nothingness.”

Castiel found his eyes drawn back to where he could just see Meg through the crack in the door. 

“So she’s some evil bad-ass?” Dean tried and Chuck nodded too eagerly.

“Great way of looking at it. Normally, I mean, she runs some place where people forget. Souls get cleansed.”

“Lethe,” Castiel said finally and both Sam and Dean looked at him.

“The place you brought Meg from?” Sam asked and when he nodded he whistled. “What a coincidence.”

“So all of this is this Sheol’s fault?” Dean leaned back on the couch.

“Essentially. She wants to end everything. Simple. She’s always been somewhat-” Chuck smirked to himself. “Unhappy with how things turned out.”

He could almost imagine her anger at that lie.

“Pretty vindictive.” Dean brushed his hands on his pants. “So how do we kill her?”

“You don’t. I mean, you can’t. I don’t even know how.”

“Super.” 

“If the trials follow through though, the world ends. From what I’ve figured out, there’s no real way around it right now without have several of the tablets to compare. If you close the Gates of Hell, everything goes up in flames. Sort of a consequence. It is more like you need a sort of sequence and plan before just charging into this, you know.”

Neither brother was happy with him pointing that out.

“So we don’t do it,” Dean agreed. “Simple. Except for Sam…”

“Makes sense not to. God’s will and all that,” Chuck said brightly. “Sure He’d be happy not to have to interfere.”

“There’s one problem. Why should I care?” Sam whispered and Dean turned.

“What?”

Both Castiel and Dean could only stare as the tall young man stood and knocked over the coffee table. “Why the fuck should I care!” he shouted at them and Dean stood up to match him. Sam’s voice cracked, the constant huskiness from a sore throat making him wince, but the power in his voice made Chuck almost cower in his chair.

"Sam, come on," Dean held his hands out to the side," you’re not thinking right."

"After all of this, all He has done to us. Asked us to do, and now I’m supposed to live with what this has done to me because He won’t interfere?" Sam raked his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. "It’s not fair, Dean. None of this!"

"God has a…" Castiel began and Sam glared at him.

"I swear if you say God has a plan I’ll kill you, Castiel. God doesn’t have a plan! He never has. He abandoned all of us and when something goes wrong, it is up to us to fix His mistakes." Sam had to wipe his eyes as tears of frustration and pain began to well. "Well, I’m done. I’m going to finish the trial."

Behind him, Chuck wearily rubbed at his eyes.

Dean grabbed Sam by the arm. “No, Sam. That’s not we’re about. We don’t end the world because life isn’t fair.”

Sam gave him a bitter chuckle. “Really? What are we about, Dean, huh? Trust? You don’t trust me. I’ve let you down. Saving people? We’re killing more than we ever have. God’s work? What God? We’re no better off now than we were five years ago. It’s one big loop!”

Castiel was seething at the blasphemy Sam was directing at them all. But one look at the way the brothers were staring at each other made him keep quiet.

Dean knew what was killing Sam and he knew that he had had a hand in it.

"Sammy," Dean’s voice dropped and he held his arms tight, "listen to me. We will find a way. We always do. But if you give up now, everything we’ve fought for gets lost. You heard Kevin- Hell, you even heard Meg. I won’t risk losing my brother to this. You’re a better man, okay? I know you are. I trust you, Sam. I do."

Sam crumpled up inside, Dean could see it in his eyes. “I’m tired, Dean. How many mistakes do I have to make to make God happy?”

There was a lost note in his voice now, replacing the anger. 

"To make it right with you?"

Dean froze and stared at Sam as his brother sat heavily down on the couch once again. 

"Sam. I would never say you deserved this."

Chuck looked between the two brothers. “Should I leave?”

Castiel glared at him to shut him up.

"You don’t have to prove anything me, Sam," Dean grabbed his arms to keep his shaky hands steady. "I don’t want that but my god, I don’t want us to die. That’s not the point of this. I won’t lose you to this and if we do this, we both die, you know that. That’s not how this is going to go. We’re going to live. I trust you. But I need you to trust in me."  

"I always do, Dean," Sam mumbled. The earlier explosion had cost him what energy he’d had left. 

"Then trust me now. We’ll get through this but I need you, Sam," Dean felt the heat radiating off Sam’s hands and he held his wrists tighter. "I don’t care about God. But what we do is save people. That is who we are. We do it together."

“Together,” Sam said wearily. 

~~~

Only hearing small slices of their conversation, Meg wandered the attached study as she thumbed her way through one of Chuck’s books. Scarecrow. Weird title. But as she read a part of it, she felt her meatsuit go cold.

This was her in here. Years ago. When she’d been happy to serve Azazel, her first father. Thumbing through, she read the interpretation of her, a mixture of damning and admiring.

Chuck, and God, had known about her all this time.

She’d not forgotten how it had felt to belong in Azazel’s close-knit ‘family’. How he had actually seemed to love her, though he had demanded absolutely loyalty from her before giving her that love.

It was too much to realize how long she might have been in these books for and she set it on the shelf. Running her fingers over the dusty shelves, she sighed.

“Get off Castiel’s leash only to get right back on Winchester’s leash. Damn.” She picked up another book and tossed it aside without seeing it. “Not even sure why I have to be here at all. Could be out torturing, causing some havoc.”

Something shifted inside of her, made her a little uncomfortable, and she patted her stomach. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the road trips. You’re already cramping my style.” Tapping her fingers, she sighed. “You don’t get how bad a time this is. Coming around like this. Into this place of all times. Really bad timing, kid.”

Stupid as it was talking to herself, Meg figured it was better than eavesdropping in on the Winchesters. Her head ached and she grabbed the shelf to steady herself.

“Getting woozy already. Maybe it’s you.” Her vision cleared a little. “Got to wonder, don’t you, if you’re just going to get lied to for the rest of your life, however long that is, about why the hell this happened. I don’t even know what you are or why you’re in here.” Meg sighed. “I will tell you one thing. Everything I’ve been through, be glad you didn’t see any of that. Likely would scar you early. Not like I care. I’m a demon. We don’t do this maternal thing.”

Going over to the window, she looked out. “Maybe you’ll grow up, who knows. I guess we’re connected up for a while. So I’ll make you a deal. Your very first demon deal. I’ll protect you. Because I get the feeling you’re going to cast one Hell of a shadow in the dark, keeping monsters and demons at bay, probably even angels, and that makes me happy if you can screw over Crowley and the others. You’re something special already and that’s pretty damn scary.”

Meg looked at her barely curved stomach. “If I don’t protect you, I’m sure Castiel will.”

Running her thumb over her stomach, she realized what had happened as she spoke to her unborn child. The broken bones of her wrist had finished healing, not leaving even a hint of pain behind. Rotating it slowly, she shook her head. “I wish I knew why you were in there and what you’re going to do.”

She gave her stomach a pat. “Guess it’s going to be a mystery.”

~~

Castiel leaned against the wall, listening to Dean’s soft words to Sam and the more terse ones he was snapping at Chuck. But slowly he heard even softer words filtering in. Meg’s voice in the next room, barely audible to a human but clear to him.

Tilting his head, he listened to what she was saying. The words were mostly affectionate nonsense but he heard the meaning beneath it all. What it meant for a demon especially. Not sure why, he smiled a little and shook his head.

“What’s the smile for?” Dean asked suddenly and Castiel looked over at him. He hadn’t realized he was being obvious and quickly went deadpan again. 

“No reason.”

“Fine.” Dean sounded tense. “So what do we do about Sam?”

Chuck shrugged. “I’d say if that the answer to getting him all juiced up was in the tablet, maybe the answer for defusing it is in there too.” 

He thought it over. “That or the angel tablet.”

Castiel looked away.

“Can’t think why we bothered to come here at all,” Sam muttered, glaring at Chuck. Dean squeezed his arm.

“All right, Chuck. You got a couple of couches we can crash on till morning?”

Chuck shrugged. “Sure, I guess. You can use the rooms upstairs. Might be dusty but if you need sleep?”

“Good. Come on, Sam, we’ll get some shut eye and try to get clear headed about this. Cas?” He waited until Castiel looked at him. “We’ll bring some gear in. Then you can get Meg and make sure she stays away from Chuck.”

“Of course.”

~~~~

Lethe was starting to hum impatiently. With the sudden presence of two Archangels, the power in its barriers was starting to flow more strongly. More and more souls began to be cleansed and upon her return Sheol noticed the shift in power. She hadn’t been gone that long, not really. Since Death had cast her to the opposite end of this universe, she’d bided her time and watched her other brother very very closely.

He wasn’t choosing a side but he was trying to be certain they both played fair.

She was proud of him if not a little annoyed at the delay. Her duty to God’s Creation should have long since ended but here she was.

“Oh, my little dove,” she muttered as she entered the centre of her home. Her power always stayed close to Meg because she couldn’t help it, not now. Not since their connection deepened when Meg had been pulled free months ago. “This would be so much easier if you would just submit to what you were supposed to do!”

Angry as she was with the demon, with what she felt, she kept her expression neutral.

Michael was testing out his power by making puddles of water appear and disappear. His eyes were bright as he looked at her and ever the loyal son he bowed at her entrance. Stepping close, she smoothed her hand down his face.

“Michael. Are you… better?”

“By far,” he admitted, nuzzling into her hand with unconscious love. “Thank you.”

He was feeling the effects of Lethe. Angels didn’t have souls but they were not impervious to its drugging warmth. After thousands of years of torture, Michael, like Lucifer, needed to feel something other than pain.

“Would you like to hear what I ask of you?” she asked and he nodded. Leading him like a child, they walked to the other side of the room where Lucifer was sitting in the balcony. When the light flickered over him, she saw an illusion of wings cascading around him. Always the brightest one, this young angel.

She ran her hand through his hair and felt his tension slowly evaporate.

“Why do you think I’ve released you?” she asked and Michael looked at Lucifer. The underlying tension between them was still there but controlled now. They’d clearly been thinking about this.

“To end your contracts with our Father,” Michael said and she nodded.

“He would pit you against each other. That always was ridiculous.”

Lucifer nodded. “I never wanted that. I merely wanted his… love.”

She nodded and looked out the window. “Too many souls have suffered and even you two have suffered, abandoned by a Father who could not love you all equally.”

“So why don’t you act? You have the same power,” Michael, ever the soldier, pointed out.

Sheol smiled. “Because it isn’t time for me to act yet and you both know that direct interference is something my kind does not do often. And something has been done to… diminish my influence.”

Both Archangels looked at her. “What?”

“Do you really think your Father would stand for such a thing, my rebellion?” she asked curiously and knew the instant she said it that Michael was snared once again.

“Father… perhaps he does not know.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Michael. He let you rot in a Cage for thousands of years. Please don’t.”

The eldest angel opened his mouth to answer but Lucifer was staring at Sheol. With astonishing gentleness, he reached out and brushed his hand over hers. “Michael is very devout but he has a point. What could trap you and why do you need us?”

She looked at the centre of the room and a silver mirror appeared, suspended by gold chains. Both angels stalked towards it. Michael gave it a blank once over and Lucifer seemed equally as at loss.

It was clear that he was struggling to place the meatsuit and the demon at once. “Her? She’s just a demon.”

Sheol watched his face. “You don’t remember her?”

"Just one of the demons," he said callously. "They had their purpose."

She stayed quiet but hummed low in her throat. Lucifer was dangerous, always had been because of his fanatical love for what he felt was right. Consequences be damned. Beings be damned.

She’d have to move carefully with them both. They weren’t a threat to her but a simple action could cause too many consequences.

“She was very devoted to you, wasn’t she?” Sheol walked around the mirror and looked as well. “Named you as Father. Gave you her loyalty and love.

"And she failed to do a simple task. She’s a female demon with no real power. Exactly why do you need her?" he asked. He squinted, struggling to really see why Meg’s meatsuit face seemed thoroughly blended with her true-form. It was as if she was being protected from outside power.

"She is now a trap."

Both angels turned at that. “For who?”

"For all of us." Sheol shook her head. "One of the most powerful forces in this world and the next is the ability to create. And she has created something that I need destroyed."

“A weapon?” Lucifer shook his head. “But nothing can kill you. Hurt you.”

But Michael’s eyes were icy and cold. “The ability to create. She’s…” His breath caught. “Pregnant.” He glanced at Lucifer. “Is that possible?”

The Archangel was tense. “No. When I created them, even if they connected with their vessels, once the soul of the human is gone the vessel is empty. Can no longer… reproduce another soul, short of one being put there by a demon itself.”

“But she has. Not just any soul, but a very powerful one. With certain… threats.”

“A Cambion,” Michael declared. “Then Heaven will take care of it.”

Sheol’s smile sent a warning through Lucifer. “No. What she has is something else. A Cambion cannot trap her,” he explained.

“Tell me,” Sheol paced a few strides out from the mirror and it shattered once she’d left, “do you remember an angel that travelled with the Winchesters?”

Both Archangels nearly growled, their power flexing around them.

So they did.

“Apparently, he has managed to forge a connection with my demon.” She took the possessive and saw Lucifer twitch but not speak on it. “A particularily deep one now. It is his child she carries.”

The open disgust on both their faces made her hide a smile.

“Castiel’s child? He was a strange one but not that strange.” Lucifer blinked. “Our brother? The one that rebelled.”

“He was only a soldier,” Michael sounded venomous. 

“And I destroyed him,” Lucifer finished.

Sheol smiled, a hint darkly. “Yet your Father chose to bring a simple soldier back into existence. Several times. He didn’t quite abandon **him**.”

Michael made a strange sound and turned away, stalking to the other side of the room. Turning her attention to Lucifer, Sheol watched him try to figure it all out.

“When they met I had thought he’d escaped. Did she set him free?” he muttered. He remembered Meg clearer now; one of Azazel’s devoted servants, one he himself had had to punish when she’d failed to keep the angel in one place. She’d been given her missions to get her out of his sight but he’d known her worth. Had thought it had been a simple underestimation of Castiel; but what if…

The thought that God’s manipulations could have run for years back, in favour of Castiel, made him almost glow with anger but Sheol waved her hand to stop him. “Stop it, Lucifer. I brought you back to finish my work. The other I thought that could do some sort of good has been failing utterly.”

She sat back down in her balcony and stared up at him. He looked over the space at her. “How?”

"Unfortunately, I’ve not been as in tune with this world as you could expect. I was not anticipating her ability to…" She waved her hand in the air. "Feel."

Lucifer ran his fingers over the curtains thoughtfully. Behind him and watching closely, Michael fidgeted. “Demons are not allowed to feel. It is why they were created by corruption. They become mindless soldiers willing to die for a cause if used right.”

“She does, Lucifer. She is very loyal and she believes that she has chosen a cause. To end another demon’s life. Because Castiel can help her with that, she gave her loyalty to his humans for a while. But now? She is not doing what I need. Her loyalty has been splintered.”

“You are saying that God had a hand in creating her child?” Michael asked and she looked over at him.

“Yes. In a manner of speaking.”

Michael looked away from her. “I cannot believe that.”

He walked out without much more to say and she sighed, watching him leave. Lucifer kept his eyes on her face.

“He is still so devoted. So eager to please though he knows what his father would do.” She looked at Lucifer. “Are you?”

His eyes went to the ground, thinking.

“He drove you away, he created grander and grander problems to occupy your time - I - I resented him for that. In the beginning.”

She smiled, remembering this Archangel at his creation. The brightest and most beautiful, and most strange but wonderful. She’d enjoyed his earliest antics. Sheol also knew better than to let it known that she would not have lifted a hand to stop God’s punishment of his disobedience.

God was, in some ways, far kinder than she was.

“I know. But Lucifer, look at me, there’s going to be a change in custody soon, do you understand? I need your help, you and your brother.”

His eagerness for being the most loved showed in the way his eyes jerked up to hers. “We could be a family again?”

“Yes.” She smoothed her hand down his face. “But first I need you to test the demon for me. I want to know how deep her loyalties lie now. Do not hurt her but test her. If you can bring her back to you, then I will be pleased.”

“That is it?” Lucifer sounded confused. 

“You will return to Earth, but do not set a foot near Sam Winchester or think to return to Hell. You are there to serve me and me only. If you so much as touch that boy, I will send you back to the Cage. Without your brother. Am I understood?”

A slight slice of rebellion showed in his eyes and she lifted a hand, smoothing it down his cheek the way she had Michael. 

“Trust in me. All of this will lead to peace.”

It took more power with Lucifer than it had Sam Winchester but his eyes lowered. “Yes.”

~~

Once Castiel had helped Dean bring in some gear from the Impala, he searched the house for Meg and found her in the kitchen alone. She was searching through the bare cupboard for food and he held up the shopping bag to her hopefully.

“Nice. Read my mind.” She almost snatched the bag from him and dug through it. Castiel leaned on the counter and watched her.

“You’re not curious as to what we’ve all decided?”

“Can’t see how anything I say is going to matter.” Meg grabbed the peanut butter and rummaged through Chuck’s only remaining clean cutlery.

“We’ll see if Kevin can do further readings. We have to find a way to heal Sam and figure out what is going on with you.”

Meg tilted her head on the side and turned to face him. “You think Chuck knows?”

He shrugged.

 “What’s going on in that featherbrain of yours?” she asked as she scooped some peanut butter out onto a spoon and popped it in her mouth. It looked absurdly innocent for a demon but it soothed the impatient rumbling in her stomach.

Still leaning against the counter, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling fan. “There is something he’s not telling us.”

“Mm. I know.” Her voice was garbled by the peanut butter and she pressed her back between the kitchen door and the pantry. “Gold star, pretty boy.”

“Why would a second prophet be around?” He was thinking aloud and Meg watched the way his eyes followed the fan. “How did he know that we were together at any point? Prophetic dreams should not be that in-depth.”

“No ithea,” she said around the spoon, the words barely distinguishable. Castiel stared at her with a perplexed frown. She looked strangely beguiling like that, if not more than a little ridiculous.

“Shouldn’t that be on something other than a spoon?”

She grinned and popped it out of her mouth. “Are you offering?”

“I can go find you some bread.”

The demon rolled her eyes as he gave her a curious look. “You’re so oblivious sometimes.”

She saw the smirk just at the corners of his mouth. “Not always though.”

Castiel’s hand brushed hers and Meg froze, the spoon halfway down from her lips. There was something about the way he stared down at her, with the fluorescent glow illuminated on his skin, that reminded her of being in a circle of fire. His blue eyes flicked over her, and Meg dropped the spoon onto the counter at the same time he stepped forward. His hands braced on either side of the pantry wall and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Still working on your put up or shut up routine?” she muttered, trying to flirt and put him off guard. Instead, he nodded and reached down to press on her stomach. 

“Yes. I think I am improving.”

Whatever she meant to say was muffled as he bent his head and kissed her. No waiting, no hesitation like he had before. Her fingers clenched into fists as he crowded her back between the door and the pantry, mouth never leaving hers long enough for her to do more than breathe in his breath. It was sudden, too sudden for her to get smart mouthed and push him away, and her fingers slid against the nape of his neck. 

The hand pressed on her stomach lifted hesitantly to cup her breast and he leaned into her. Pushing herself against him, she ran her fingers up into his hair and slid her tongue into his mouth. Castiel’s groan was muffled but she felt his eagerness when she slipped a leg between his and rubbed against him. His hand squeezed hard enough that she gasped and the kiss deepened until she didn’t care that earlier they’d been too tense to touch. His tongue slid against the ridge of her teeth, licking away the remainder of the peanut butter and she decided it really was her favourite thing now.

Never-mind the cravings for food. She’d forgotten that she was getting addicted to the burn of Grace.

His teeth still holding her lower lip between them, Castiel’s fingers combed through her hair and he stepped closer until there was no space left between them. The faint sound from her throat made him grin and deepen the kiss as he tipped her head back, nipping at her lip gently. Her fingers tightened in his hair, nails dragging against his scalp, and he felt her lift up against his body to get closer.

Meg was close to demanding he zap them away, to anywhere but the kitchen of some prophet, when the door shoved against them. Castiel’s foot blocked it enough and with a sigh he broke the kiss. Meg groaned in disappointment, fingers dropping to pull at his tie, silently asking him to continue. He rested his mouth against hers for just a moment longer before stepping out of the way of the door with her.

Chuck finally squeezed through the door, carrying a large box.

“Oh, Cas! I was looking for you! Coffee first though,” he exclaimed happily. Meg was still sucking in lungfuls of air, her tongue licking her lower lip, and Castiel was rumpled, his hair on all ends. He still was close, still leaning against her, but whether Chuck noticed or not wasn’t clear. Panting for breath, Meg eyed him as he started to make the coffee, her fingers on Castiel’s chest.

“I’m going to break his legs,” she muttered to the angel. He eyed her.

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh yes I am. Just give me five minutes.” She stepped forward to make good on her threat but he looped an arm through hers. The grip was gentle and he was actually smiling at her.

“Please.”

“Fine. You break his legs.”

The look he gave her was affectionate, his blue eyes almost laughing and a crooked grin on his lips. It was the sort of look that had her stare stupidly, entranced by the sight of him. Castiel happy, genuinely happy for no reason whatsoever, was a rare sight. He looked over at Chuck and then back at her, and shrugged. 

        “Why would I break his legs?”

“Because he just stopped you from getting laid for the first time in days.”

There was something too practised in the innocent way he tilted his head and stared at her swollen lips. “Is that what was going to happen?”

Meg ground her teeth together. “Well, now it’s not.”

Still muttering about cockblocks, she banged the door open and headed out. Castiel watched her go into the living room and smiled a little.

“She make you happy?” Chuck’s voice was sudden and Castiel blinked, turning to look at him. “I mean, I never saw you smile much. Or do much more than accept what you got as your duty. You were usually serious but she seems to turn you inside out as much as the Winchesters.”

“She’s… Meg.”

“Weird though. Demon and angel? You guys are going for different.”

“I suppose we are.” Castiel looked at the box curiously. It was old and water stained, with Chuck’s name written across it.” 

“Ah huh. What do you see, when you look at her?” Chuck was trying to hide his fear of Meg behind sarcasm. “I mean, she’s just a demon. So I can imagine it is all scary face and stuff.”

Castiel gave a small smile, looking at the box instead. “Yes, she is a demon.” 

"Ah, right." Chuck rolled his eyes while sending Castiel a puzzled look, and opened up the box. The angel looked over his shoulder at the piles of soft blankets, stuffed toys and books. 

“What’s that?” He reached in and picked up a worn copy of children’s mythology.

“That is my old nursery stuff.” Chuck picked up the teddy bear and hugged it to him. “Mom was real sentimental that way. She read me a lot of books. That one is my favourite, you know. Used it for naming characters sometimes. Handy thing.”

Castiel picked up an embarrassing frog outfit made for a child. “I can imagine she kept quite a few things?”

Chuck quickly shoved that to the bottom as his cheeks went bright red. “I just figured - as a thank you - from saving me from your psychotic girlfriend. You likely need some stuff, right? There’s some things in there that you’ll need. Eventually.”

The angel didn’t notice how Chuck’s voice dropped and how he stared a little strangely at the box.

"She’s not my girlfriend. She’s…" Castiel touched the downy soft yellow blanket next . “And she’s hardly psychotic.”

“Right. Just a woman, am I right?”

“… She is indeed female. I - ” He shook himself. “There is something else, isn’t there?”

Chuck gave him an innocent grin as he stammered, “What… what do you mean?

"What Meg is carrying. By everything that makes sense it should be at the most nephilim. From my Grace and her vessel. But from what I feel, it’s…" Castiel took a deep breath. "The soul is somehow part of Meg and I. Not our vessels, that is simpler biology, but this is more complex. The child is equally demonic and angelic but stronger than I thought would be possible. I can feel it."

"Well, you’ve always been special, Castiel," Chuck said, turning away to pour a cup of coffee. "Right from the time you were sung into creation."

Castiel looked over his shoulder at him. “What?”

He was chuckling to himself. “Can you just imagine the Archangels’ faces if they learned their little brother and a demon made the beast with two backs and created life? Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if any of them were around.”

The angel stared at him, wondering at the humour the prophet was showing. As if he couldn’t wait to see what happened next. Castiel joined him at the kitchen window and stared outside.

“If you can still see, after everything - the chaos in Heaven, you’re the only known pipeline to my Father. Perhaps he — “

Immediately Chuck put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Somehow I don’t think he could be trying much harder than he is already.”

“But he’s omnipotent.”

“Impotent?! Wha - oh, omnipotent. Yeah, well, whatever then.” Chuck shrugged.

"If he could see this all, if he could at least guide me." Castiel’s eyes were drawn to where Sam and Dean were sitting on the front porch,  to where Meg was pacing on the street outside the gate. "I could know how to guide them all."

"Life’s not easy. But I’m sure that God knows what he’s doing."

"I’m not so sure of that anymore," Castiel muttered.

He missed Chuck’s frown at him.

~~

Michael could barely keep himself contained when Lucifer left with Sheol. He only knew that what she was doing, what she was asking them both to do, was against his loyalty. He was devoted to his Father. He had known that his Father had meant what was best for them all, that their fighting had broken his heart, and he had always meant to find a way for God to love them unconditionally once again.

If it had meant killing his brother, then he would do so.

But for the first time, after the long centuries in the Cage, Michael was feeling doubt. Doubt that maybe all this time he had been wrong. That he had never been meant to do more than allow for Creation to continue. To try to find a way of healing his brother.

God had saved Castiel time and time again but had left his most devoted of children to rot in a Cage.

What would completing the last of the contracts mean except losing his only family he had?

What if this was merely going to disappoint his Father yet again?

~~

Castiel left Chuck to find Meg sitting on the back porch, away from the Winchesters who still took up the front porch. She was staring at the night sky, shaking her head.

“This is not going to end well,” she said and then jumped when she realized how close he was. “That was fast.”

“Chuck had a few items for us.” His eyes went over her as he sat next to her. “For… her.”

“Oh. Great. Hand me downs from the drunk.”

They sat beside each other, feeling awkward and yet not wanting to break it. Castiel let himself glance at Meg a few times, wondering why she sat so still now. She’d been eager to go but when told they would stay until morning she hadn’t fought them on it. Something was bothering her.

He looked down, seeing her rubbing her healed wrist and he noticed the bones seemed perfectly set again.

“We should name her,” Castiel declared suddenly. Meg’s head whipped around.

“What? Why? Names can happen in an instant. No point getting excited by it.”

“Because it would help form an attachment,” he pointed out. 

“Don’t think her swimming around in my uterus is enough of one?”

Castiel heard the layered tension in her voice. Nothing like the earlier sarcasm. This was deeper. He could almost read it in the way her fingers curled into fists.

“You’re afraid of this.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Look, I just don’t want to name her right now. Don’t turn this into something girlie, like feelings.”

“You seem frightened by the idea of feeling anything,” the angel noted and she shook her head.

"I’m not good with this," Meg muttered but her fingers clenched so hard that her nails left imprints in her hands. "Demons aren’t supposed to feel, Clarence. We don’t get to have anything but hate and want to destroy. When we do get a chance, it is a pretty rare thing. Much like you, I guess. We’re made to feel only what we are supposed to."

He blinked and looked at the top of her head but she didn’t look at him.

"So yeah, what I think is going on between us is damn scary. Lil’Bit not included."

He caught that slip. What she’d meant, he knew, was that it had little to do with Lethe or the past months. Whatever it was that was slowly developing between them was terrifying for a demon tortured and conditioned in Hell.

“So you think we are something more than just allies.” The angel looked back out at the distant woods. “You’re not wrong. Do you think that it might make any sense?”

"If we weren’t what we are?" She slapped her thigh. "Yeah, sure. Make more sense then. Let’s not get caught up in maybes because I’m still a demon and you’re still an angel. We’re enemies who got shoved together." She looked directly at him finally. “If it weren’t for what happened, you’d be off on your merry way, Winchesters in tow. I’m not much to you and that’s the best way to keep it.”

Castiel didn’t respond.

“Because I doubt there is any other option.”

He didn’t move when she stood up, not that she could see, but his voice snared her still. 

"I do love you."

Meg stalled mid-step and stared wide eyed at nothing at all.

"Not that it makes sense to." Castiel looked at the back of his palms. "It’s not even the same as how I love Dean or how I love Sam. Even them I love differently from each other. I feel deeply enough that I would and have died for them.”

Meg didn’t turn around but she heard him sigh.

“But with you? It’s grown slower and still I know what it is. Feels different. Sometimes it hurts more than I like, though the pain is something I’ve not felt before. But I felt it now. What I do feel… I don’t want to let that go. I’ve learned to love beyond Heaven, thanks to Dean, thanks to Sam, but you are different for me. You always have been.” 

His head lifted and he tilted his head as he stared at her.

"It’s frightening, even for me, and I know you feel something for me.  Something I don’t think you realize. But you’re frightened by it, perhaps more than I am. I can wait but I am not doing this out of just duty, Meg. I’m doing it for love and because I want to."

Meg squeezed her eyes shut. Of all those memories from every loop, every time she’d watched him die, she thought that that would be the one memory she could never keep. How he’d looked at her so strangely each time of his death. But to hear it from him was somehow just as painful as when she’d let him see that she cared. 

Without another word, Castiel stood up and walked back into the house to help Dean with Sam. Meg stared at the street and shook her head. It was easy to remember her words to Sam about Castiel but she’d thought it would pass. That she’d forget it the way Sam had.

But she hadn’t.

“Damn,” she muttered as she looked over her shoulder at him. He was nearly out of sight and Meg felt a strangeness coiling in the pit of her stomach. Warm and cold at the same time. She was afraid. 

Rolling her eyes up to the sky, she sighed and closed them slowly. He was out of sight. The words would burn to say even if he couldn’t possibly hear them.

"I do love you,” she whispered anyway.

~~

Sam’s hands were shaking in Dean’s grip, his breathing shallow. Eyes on his face, Dean shook his head and leaned closer. “Jesus, Sammy, you’re burning up.”

“This your way of saying I’m hot?” Sam asked and Dean rolled his eyes. 

“No, dumbass. I mean that fever isn’t going down. Next step is an ice-bath and some coolers.” The night air was just cold enough to have brought Sam’s ever present fever down. Dean began to slowly wrap his hands, feeling the heat emanating from his brother.

“Dean,” Sam coughed hoarsely. “What… what if my not doing the trial is what kills me?” 

Dean’s eyes went over his face. “It won’t, Sam. I swear.”

“I’ve got a high fever and every minute I think I could pass out. Something is wrong.” Sam’s eyes were half-shut, as if the sheer effort of keeping them open was exhausting him.

“Like what?” Dean watched small veins of light go up his brother’s arms and then back down, until they’d disappeared all together. The sight was so bizarre that he looked up to see Sam watching him.

“I feel kind of, overpowered. Not like when I drank demon’s blood. I feel clean.” He blinked a few times to clear his vision. “But I also feel like at any moment all of this power is going to explode out of me.”

Dean stared at him.

“Guess it’s sort of the price of stopping mid-trial, right?” Sam asked tiredly.

“Maybe. But if Chuck is right and we can find the cure for what is wrong with you inside the tablets, then we’ll be okay.” He watched Sam bend at the waist and begin to dry heave. Gently, he patted his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. I know it is.”

He closed his eyes and prayed in his head to Cas to come help him. “It’s going to be okay.”

~~

Meg walked close to the edge of the lawn, keeping one eye on her surroundings and one eye on the house. It’d felt awkward enough being there with them all. The odd one out this time. Chuck’s interest in Castiel was obvious, the sort of odd concern that made her wondering why. She knew if she saw that prophet on her own she’d re-break his nose.

Dean and Sam were leaving the front porch already, Dean having to support the larger man’s weight with Castiel on the other side. Even from the distance, she could see him swaying uncomfortably on his feet.

“Moose is getting old,” she muttered dryly. Maybe it was better for her to get back as well, before Castiel came looking for her.

“Meg.”

The voice made her stop mid-step and she stared at the house, not wanting to turn around.

“I thought it was you.”

The familiar voice had been in her dreams for years, even before she’d realize who had been calling her. It had stopped only a few years ago and she’d never thought to hear it again. Like every demon, she knew the voice instinctively. The way Castiel would know the voice of his God, she supposed.

“Lucifer?”

When she turned he was there. The meatsuit was the same; a man he’d called Nick, she remembered. The skin was healed though, as clean as her own, and she stepped back in shock.

“I’m hallucinating.”

“Is that anyway to greet your Father?” He opened his arms to her and Meg swayed towards him a little. But she knew this was a hallucination.

A way of her own stupid self forcing her to make a choice.

**You’re not wrong, my dove. Isn’t Lucifer your true choice? He always has been and always will be.**

Meg lifted a hand to her head to try to drown out the sudden husky drawl of Sheol in her mind.

Lucifer put his arms down and slowly walked towards her.

“Did you think your God would abandon you?” he asked soothingly. “Yes, I’m just a figment of your imagination. But I will return, Meg, you know that. And I will need you.”

She tried not to look at him but like the last time she’d been in his Grace, she was almost enthralled.

When his hands cupped her cheek, he smiled at her. “Meg. Daughter of Azazel and my daughter. You’ve survived all this time.”

Lucifer stared at her, taking in the changes in her true face. Meg stared back up at him and he waited patiently for that adoring look he remembered. The threads of it were there. The loyalty so strong in her. “You’re different, child. From how many years ago. Still beautiful, still strong, but something has faltered inside of you. You seem… I’m not sure.”

Meg swayed on her feet and her eyes grew heavy as he stroked her cheeks gently, thumbs caressing her features. “You’re not real.”

"You’d not recognize your own God standing before you?" he asked curiously. "You are created to love me, serve me.”

Where before the words would have sunk her deep into him, willing to follow him anywhere, now Meg could only hear Castiel’s soft murmur in her memory. _“…Lucifer is just using demons to achieve an end. And then, once he does, he’ll destroy you all.”_

Her Father though and Castiel were both angels. What if she was merely a means to an end?

_Castiel…_

Lucifer’s thumbs continued to stroke her face but Meg opened her eyes 

“If you obey me, I will be the only one who loves you as you are. Just obedience, as ever.” He smiled. “For my love.”

The difference was enough to jolt her back to reality. 

Castiel hadn’t asked for that. 

He’d become something she had never expected long ago in that ring of fire. He was the angel she’d been willing to die for; he knew what she was and had not asked for more than that.

The one who asked for her love without expecting something else.

Meg had never been asked for that before. It had been demanded of her. She’d been forced to submit to it, to adapt and change. Tortured until she loved completely.

But no one had actually wanted her love and given her it in complete return without expectation.

With this vision of Lucifer touching her, it only became clear what she hadn’t thought before. That there was a difference between love out of duty and love out of choice.

"No." She stepped back out of his touch. "I owe you nothing. This is just a dream."

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at her. “Do not do something you’ll regret, Meg.”

“You’re not real,” she whispered, putting her hand to her head and shutting her eyes. She missed the way he looked hard at her stomach. “You’re not real.”

“I will be very real to you soon, Meg. To all of you. Do not choose the wrong side when I return.”

Before Meg could look, he was gone, making her wonder if she was going insane again. Where he had touched felt hot and her skin burned a little from the contact. 

Why was she seeing ghosts of Lucifer now? She shook her head and gave herself a small slap. As she stared at her shaking hands, she remembered that she had heard Sheol’s voice at the same time, droning softly in her ear. Maybe it had just been nothing.

~~

Standing under the trees across the road, Sheol’s gaze narrowed as Lucifer appeared beside her. He’d been cloaked in her power to hide him from Castiel but still it had done no good.

Lucifer gave her a curious look. “She thought I was a dream.”

“You are, technically.” She tilted her head. “She didn’t come to you.”

“No.” He made a face. “It was almost as if she didn’t want to.”

The arrogance of him made her snap her fingers and send him back to Lethe without further discussion. At times like these, she knew it was better that she didn’t return to Lethe just yet. She needed time to get things in order, to move her own pawns into place, before God moved his.

She smiled lovingly as she watched Meg disappear into the house. Lucifer would not take the loss of a loyalist well as he regained his strength. Maybe it would just be a matter of time after all.

~~~

Castiel wandered Chuck’s house long after Meg finally came back in. Not needing sleep and not knowing what else to do, he kept a close eye on them all. There were no demons to fight, no angels to ward off with Chuck’s house already warded against both, so he had time to just think.

The problem was, his mind kept wandering. After seeing the full extent of what was wrong with Sam, the desperation he had felt from Dean, he knew he needed to find a way. He didn’t know what to do. If he let the trial go through, then the consequences would devastate everything. If they didn’t, then Sam would die and in a way, Dean would die with him.

Closing his eyes, he stopped halfway up the stairs and sighed.

If he’d thought he could, he would have asked Chuck. But the prophet had drunk himself to sleep after a blinding headache and was currently snoring away on his couch. In the spare rooms, Dean wasn’t sleeping any better, he could hear it, while Sam was struggling to keep his nightmares away. The house was restless and he felt it working on his own tension.

He’d hoped that he could have spent the night talking with someone. But after his revelation to Meg, he knew that what ground he’d gained with her, in earning her trust, was likely gone. The lines were drawn and he’d crossed them. 

He had no one to talk to.

As he finished getting the second floor, he wondered about trying to talk to Sam again. Though the door he’d had slammed in his face earlier wasn’t encouraging.

As he headed towards Sam’s door, he realized he was being watched and he turned to look.

“Castiel?”

Meg stood in the doorway to the master bedroom, leaning against the frame. He hadn’t heard her upstairs and when he glanced down to see her bare feet he realized why. Her head tilted on the side and she ran her eyes over him.

Castiel blinked, startled that she was watching him.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked and he walked away from Sam’s toward her, keeping his voice low.

“I was…” He looked at her. “Are you hurt? You look troubled.”

She smirked up at him though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not troubled, Clarence. Just a bit,” she sighed, “I’m not even sure. Tense, maybe. Overwhelmed, I guess.”

He stared down at her. “About what? This place and Chuck knowing…?”

Meg shook her head and looked up at him. “No. Not that.”

They stared at each other for a long moment and he watched the way her eyes darkened until they were black. The sight was startling in her small features and he saw something other than wariness in her expression.

“Meg…” 

Then her openness was gone and she looked away.

“Sorry, guess I thought you’d want to stay the night or something but that’s probably not the best move right now. Little too close for comfort what with Dean in the other room, Sam sleepwalking, and the drunk guy who likely knows what we did before.” She turned around and he followed her into the bedroom, closing the door quietly as she muttered to herself. Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“Meg.”

“Maybe I really am losing it.” She jumped when she realized how close he was standing behind her. “You…”

Castiel tilted his head forward. “I would like to stay.” 

He stepped into her slowly, unused to make much of a first move for this and half-afraid she was going to run. It was hard to hide his relief when she didn’t move away. When he put his hand out, she didn’t react until his palm cupped her chin. He tilted her head up and ran his thumb over her jaw. Immediately her arms went around his neck as his mouth sought and found hers. 

The kiss was gentle though, for the first time not hurried and fierce, not fighting for dominance. His lips parted hers, moving slow and warm, and the hands on her waist kept her closely fitted to his body. Meg’s eyes opened a little, to check on him, and she found him staring back at her through the kiss. When they broke apart, he was breathing as hard as she was.

Whatever this was, she thought dizzily, it was new.

His hands lowered to grasp her by her thighs and pull her up into him, lifting her and letting her hook her legs around his hips. He felt her fingers in his hair, stroking instead of pulling, and he slowly walked to the bed. Meg nipped and nuzzled at his neck, enjoying the way his rumbling groans vibrated through her body. His body was radiating with heat now and she reached between them to unbutton his shirt and undo his tie.

She felt his knees buckle just as they reached the bed and he knelt with her on the mattress.

Castiel ran his lips along her jawline until she turned her head and returned the kisses, tongue peeking out to lap at his lower lip seductively. He shrugged off his coat and jacket, the shirt following with its tie quickly. Meg’s fingers clenched on his shoulders when he moved his mouth to her neck, his hands lifting her shirt up her stomach.

He was moving slow, so slow that she nearly wanted to rip the shirt off her own body, but he kept her still. Pulling back, he lifted the shirt over her head and she felt the cool swish of her hair down her back as he tilted her back a little on the bed. She watched the play of shadows on his face. 

Castiel ran his fingers over the ridge of her ribs, making her arch her back before he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

He moved slow, as if mapping her out and remembering parts of her he might have forgotten. As her fingers pushed lightly on his head, he ran his teeth over the top of her breasts, mouthing at the lace bra and then back up to her neck in slow, steady trails. Her breath hitched impatiently as he continued to repeat the slow teasing tracks.

The silence beyond their heavy breathing and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall was almost too much. Muttering for him to let her move, she reached down between them for his belt. His hand caught hers and impatiently pushed it away. When he looked up at her, she caught her breath at what she could see.

“Cas…” she warned, lifting her head to try for another kiss and he smiled, just out of reach.

Without lowering his head, his arms lifted her up a little and Meg slid up against him as he finished undressing them both with more patience than she felt.

His mouth pressed against hers as they leaned back on the bed, and she felt the electricity of his Grace move against her darkness. It tingled on her skin and she combed her fingers through his hair to try to get him to move closer. She felt his hands drawing slow circles on her stomach and breasts, making her feel strangely warm. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” he muttered when he shifted and stopped kissing her long enough that he could move them further up onto the bed.

"Don’t," Meg warned and grabbing him by his shoulders she pulled him back down on top of her. Her fingers tightened around his arms as he braced himself over her. When she saw him staring at her, she groaned and pushed up to kiss him to be sure he wouldn’t start again. His murmuring against her mouth was insistent though and he broke away a little.

"I know," he muttered, smoothing her hair back and cradling her face. The similarity to how her hallucination of Lucifer had held her had her stiffening up but he let her go. There was nothing deceptive in that caress and his fingers slipped to stroke her breasts. "Thank you."

"I…" she whispered, voice tight and aching with need. Not sure what he meant but knowing that he was likely trying to read her again. Meg could guess at what he was thanking her for and she wasn’t sure what to do. It burned to even think of it, that he might know. 

At the feel of her hands tightening in his hair, Castiel smiled. 

"I meant it then, Meg. I know now what it can mean." His mouth moved against hers again, playing with her lips for a kiss. “Nothing changes that. Not really.”

The slow way he moved, seducing her and comforting her, made Meg close her eyes and allow herself to enjoy it. She felt surrounded and for once the way he could overpower her was not as terrifying as it could have been. Castiel touched her deeper than he knew.

She was wanted for what she was. As his lips pressed against hers, she realized the choice she was making as she opened herself to the imprint he was leaving on her  damaged soul.


	17. Shadows (When Demons Conceal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eerie quiet after Chuck’s reappearance unsettles everyone, though Meg tries to hide how much that night affected her. When Crowley disappears, whispers of a new leader in Hell begin to reach the Winchesters. Sam’s struggle with his health causes Dean to turn to Cas for help again, not knowing what it might do to him. Frustrated and weakening, Sheol turns to the Archangels to fulfill another tablet instead: the angel tablet.

**In the Lethe**

**Part 10: Shadows (When Demons Conceal)**

_Part 1 of 2_

~~~

The bunker was quiet, with only the dripping pipes and the hum of electricity to disturb the silence, and Crowley found it almost too much to take. Hours of hollering, of singing and just being irritating hadn’t actually let him get anywhere. The Winchesters were gone, taking with them Castiel. Which left Meg and Kevin maybe, Crowley just wasn’t sure. He’d hoped to goad one of them into coming to him, so he could try something, anything, to get free.

Angry, he tugged at the chains still binding his wrists and felt the iron bite into his skin.

“Bloody hell. This is going to chafe later on.” But despite how glib he tried to keep himself, Crowley knew something was wrong. He still felt strangely out of place, like his actual soul was split in two, and he just wanted a shot of scotch and a soft bed for a few hours. 

As he continued to pull at the chains, he realized suddenly that he wasn’t alone in the bunker, not anymore. The slow click of heels on the cement made him try to turn around to face the door but he could only twist so far. The chain collar binding his neck snapped tight and he choked against its pressure.

“Well, well. Cassie sent you back to finish the job, huh?” he demanded, voice croaking from too much screaming. 

When the woman came around in front of him, he relaxed.

“Thought it was someone else.”

Sheol stared down at his kneeling form, looking ethereal though her white silk gown dragged over the bloodstained ground. “What would you give me if I freed you, Crowley?” she asked. No introductions. Nothing. He knew her and he knew what power she had if she was here.

“Anything. I’ll give you… a bunch of babies to eat if you want.”

She slowly lowered herself across from him, so they were face to face. “I am going to install a new reign in Hell. To distract the Winchesters. Since you’ve done a poor job.”

Crowley instantly rocked forward, realizing that even though she was going to free him it was going to come at a high cost. “No… NO! I’ve worked too hard!”

Her hand snapped out to grab him by his throat, hauling him in close to the limit of the chains. “It is either that or I let your dogs eat you. And I will take it anyway.”

Her fingers stroked his face. “It is just for a little while, Crowley. When they come back, they are going to purify you and you would lose Hell anyway. I am going to keep you safe.”

He was intoxicated by her closeness as she stroked his cheek, her mouth just brushing his. “Safe?”

“A blind, Crowley. Just for me. I still can find use for you here, to keep as a diversion.”

His eyes opened a little wider. There was something she wasn’t telling him, something she was hiding. But Sheol smiled and put her hand over his eyes just as he screamed in defiance.

Fire exploded in the dungeon in a whirlwind, swirling around and  cleansing the area before leaving it in the pristine condition it had been in before. Sheol tilted her head back and stared around the room.

“A change of regime. Just for a little while.” 

Her shared memories with Meg plucked out one of the memories that she wanted and she smiled. It was simple to track the demon she had in mind. Simpler when the Winchesters had a hand in it as well.

“I need something… dark. Strong enough to help force the hand.” She smiled and her eyes opened when she found what she was looking for: an angry soul trapped in the ground miles away. “Perfect.”

~~

Deep in Lethe, Lucifer felt Sheol’s movements acutely as he stood at a balcony railing. Beside him, Michael stood and stared at the distant, endless horizon line. The false sun flared once, twice, and then flashed green in a crack of lightning that split the sky in two. The aftereffect faded slowly, leaving behind a dawn light that cast everything in sickly green.

Turning his head, he watched as the water on the shoreline beat harder and harder. The rhythm of it was hypnotic and beautiful. Reminded him of certain parts of Heaven, where things such as these were signs.

“She’s using power,” Lucifer muttered. “In Hell. I can feel it. Can you feel it?”

Michael nodded and tentatively put his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “She’s planning something to what she wants.”

Both Archangels shuddered because they knew what that could mean. If Sheol was doing something to Hell, then Heaven would be her next step. Her next deadly step.

“We might be going home soon.” Lucifer sounded so earnest that Michael shut his eyes and did not dare look at his brother. A faint roaring noise cascaded across Lethe’s reality as Hell was invaded and conquered all in one second in human time. Their connection to Hell, to the Cage, meant that both of them felt the sudden movements of the demons. They felt the way the demons still in the pit were immediately dragged out and put under a new set of orders.

Though who was putting the order out was unclear.

“She’s going to take us home,” Lucifer reaffirmed, as if saying it over and over again would make it true. When Michael opened his eyes, he stared at him thoughtfully.

“Maybe.”

~~

The dream smell of smoke and sulphur made Meg jerk awake, snapping out of her doze so fast that she gasped for breath. The visions had been too clear; visions of fire, blood and bone, of Hell itself being turned inside out. She hadn’t dreamed of Hell so vividly since Lucifer’s release years ago. She’d heard voices snarling orders, heard the clang of racks being opened and the echoing screams of the Pit growing louder and louder in her ears. But now it was gone and the silence around her made it more surreal. 

Her muscles clenched in readiness and she gulped down several deep breaths before she opened her eyes. Slowly, her meatsuit caught up with what her mind actually knew; whatever had happened in Hell hadn’t happened to her. The breeze from the draft slid over her skin and she felt a shudder crawl up her back. It was followed by a sudden urge to fight and inside her body her true form recoiled and snapped.

As she twisted on the bed a little, she knew she was ready to run and fight.

A hand slid around her waist before an arm rested just below her breasts, holding her still. Gently, it pulled her back into a protective embrace that nearly made her panic until the hold softened.

"I’m here," Castiel muttered against the top of her head. His body shifted closer over the mussed bedsheets and his leg slid over hers to keep her from getting up. "You were dreaming.I felt it."

She’d almost forgotten he was here with her.

They’d never really stayed in the same bed for long before. Each time they’d been together, they had pulled away because the closeness was often too much. Meg had never been able to get used to being touched without pain or expectation behind it, and Castiel hadn’t known at the time to stay with her.

But now that seemed like a distant memory after the past night. They’d been lying together for hours now and neither had moved away like they used to. When she’d fallen asleep, he’d been tracing the scars on her meatsuit’s back and talking lowly to her.

"It felt real to me." Staring at the window, she reached down and plucked at his fingers as if to pull them away from her skin. He drew her back into the curve of his body and held her still. He felt good, resting there behind her, and partly because he couldn’t see how the dreams bothered her. The embrace wasn’t sexual and instead of being disappointed she actually felt herself relaxing inch by slow inch.

"Stay. You both need some rest." His fingers tapped on her stomach. “Your dreams are affecting her too, I think.”

Meg turned her head a little to try to see him. “Since when do angels do the bed thing?”

"It’s a novelty," he agreed and she felt his breath brushing the back of her neck. Meg turned half over to look at him and he shrugged. "I’m willing to indulge today."

He was clearly not about to move and hadn’t bothered to redress, the bedsheets slung low over his hips. All naked skin and smelling of sex and angel; Meg decided there were worse ways to wake up from a bad vision of Hell. When she turned over a little more, she saw that his mouth was still swollen from a bite mark she’d left, his hair stood on all ends and his blue eyes stayed half-closed. He looked remarkably relaxed, she thought with a grin, especially after being sexed up. All debauched angel and he seemed to like it.

Though one thing bothered her about the sudden shift between them.

“What was the thank you for?” she blurted out and he looked up a little, his mouth grazing her shoulder.

“The what?”

“You thanked me earlier. Was it for sex or was it…” She rolled her eyes. “For something else?”

Meg wondered if his supernatural hearing had let him hear the one thing she couldn’t dare say to his face. If it did she was sure she was going to run and not come back because it just was not her to say such sentimental things.

Castiel looked at her. “Why? What did you say?” She squinted a little and he actually smiled. “It was for letting me stay. I was feeling lost.”

Something gleamed in his eyes and she wondered if he was lying. Castiel leaned around her and checked the time instead. Meg turned a little in his arms, watching him move and feeling the way his body stretched. Castiel’s skin was incredibly warm compared to hers, the bare contact just enough of a caress that she relaxed. His head turned back, his mouth brushing hers when he looked down at her. 

“Go back to sleep. We have some time.”

For some reason, the way he turned around disappointed her as he shifted around on the bed, snatching a pillow up from the floor and the blankets that had been pushed down to the edge. He tucked the down comforter around her hips and then lay back down with a huff on his back. Meg licked her lips and turned back over to face the window. 

They lay separate for a moment, his eyes on the ceiling and hers on the window. His breathing was even but after a short time she heard him shift around on the bed, as if he was anticipating a movement.

Slowly, Meg realized he was waiting for her.

_Couldn’t hurt. Just one time…_

When she shuffled back into him, he pushed up against her and pulled her snugly in so she was slotted perfectly against his front. Compared to her, his body was warm and it created a drugging sort of heat that washed over her. _Like Lethe,_ she thought hazily, _but this is real._ Her eyes slipped closed and she felt his breath brushing her ear as he rested his head against the back of her neck.

“We’re almost cuddling, Clarence,” she muttered. “That seem wrong to you?”

“Should it?”

“Seems strange for an angel and a demon, doesn’t it?”

He snorted and she felt his fingers trail over the ridge of her hip and along her waist. “We should have thought of that months ago then.”

“Touché.”

~~

Stumbling down the hall to Chuck’s bathroom, Dean yawned as he rubbed at his face. He needed a shower just to wake up and figured if he was the first one in there he’d at least get a chance of hot water. It had been a long night and the lumpy old mattress in the spare room had been enough to cause more than a few aches.

Thinking he heard Chuck’s bedroom door opening, he turned around. After the night he’d just had, he wasn’t about to thank his host for the bedspace. But the door was shut and when he really though about it he was sure he had left Chuck downstairs last night. Judging by the way Chuck had cuddled that bottle of scotch, it was a good guess that the prophet was going to be moving for a few hours.

Shrugging, thinking maybe it was just his tired brain playing tricks, Dean turned around and came face to face with Castiel. The angel stared at him patiently as Dean had to stop himself from crashing into him by jerking away.

“Cas! How many years and you still don’t get personal space!”

“Sorry.” Castiel looked behind and then back at him. “Something wrong?”

“Thought I heard Chuck’s door open. But he’s still downstairs right?”

“Yes, of course. I checked the perimeter again to be sure everything was quiet.”

“Good. Want to get out of this place fast before any more demons come poking around.” Dean walked around him and headed to the bathroom. “Where’s Meg?”

“She’s around. Resting.”

“Yeah well, carrying around demon spawn and breaking a prophet’s nose will tire her out,” Dean said.

“Yes, I’m… I’m sure that is what it was.” Castiel’s voice was a little off and Dean turned to see him staring at the bedroom door.

“Something up?” he asked and the angel shook his head. 

“No.”

“Good, because I’d hate to see something else go wrong.” He shut the door on the bathroom and leaned against the wall, sighing. “Again.”

~~

Castiel closed the bedroom door behind himself and froze as he realized Meg was dressing. She was moving slow, pausing to look out the window or over the objects in Chuck’s bedroom. Something caught her eye in the corner of the room when she had only her bra and jeans on. Her hair slid over her shoulder when she bent over to check a tiny box of notes. 

Leaning against the door, Castiel waited for her to notice him. But Meg was flipping through the notes and her look was too focussed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just wondering how much this Chuck knows.” She held up the notes for him and he finally crossed the room to look at it with her. It was a highlighted set, of scratched out plot lines. One being the solving the trials and the destruction of creation, angels and demons, if it happened. The notes were dated several years ago.

“But…” Castiel shook his head and frowned. “He is a prophet, Meg. It is possible God gave him these visions.”

“Or maybe God didn’t have his mind made up on whether he wanted the world destroyed or not. Does he even care?”

He stared at her, looking ready to say something to her for that slice of blasphemy. Meg arched a curved brow challengingly and he backed down, knowing a fight when he saw one. 

“Dean is up. He wants to leave before sunrise.” 

She looked up at him as she slowly straightened, her fingers slipping around his wrist when he went to move off. “Clarence.”

He paused and looked down at the grip on his wrist, then up at her face curiously. The demon made a small sound and gave up, shaking her head. She squared her shoulders and whatever she’d been about to say was replaced by a cocky smirk. He watched the change in her, wondered at it, as she let him go. Her fingers dragged against his skin, leaving behind a phantom coolness, and, puzzled, he watched her finish dressing instead.

But before he could ask what she had wanted to say, she was leaving the room and there was nothing he could do but follow her.

~~

The house was eerily quiet and Sam felt as if each step he took creaked the floorboards. Dean had woken him up from his first sound sleep in days, a sleep that had been so deep he hadn’t dreamt at all. It had been blissful and he knew, judging by Dean’s expression, that his brother knew it.

“Sorry, Sammy, but we’ve got to get back before Crowley does any damage to the bunker or Kevin. You can sleep in the car.” Dean’s concern had been so deep that he’d actually had to help Sam dress, remarking now and then on how thin his brother had gotten. Sam had eventually snapped at him to leave him alone and Dean hadn’t argued.

If Dean wasn’t arguing with him, then meant that he knew something was wrong.

When he passed the kitchen, Sam felt his stomach turn over at the smell of burnt toast and black coffee and he made a face as he walked into the tiny study. Meg and Castiel were there; Meg was leaning against the window and Castiel was thumbing through an old book. Sam looked at him curiously, noticing that when he turned to the front page, the book’s pages would flip through to the back, seemingly without Castiel touching them. The angel kept reading anyway and Sam rolled his eyes before looking at Meg. She was staring out the window, apparently keeping watch.

The only person missing was his brother. “Where’s Dean?”

“He went to speak to Chuck.” Castiel flipped a page, not looking up from the book. “But the prophet isn’t really sober. So Dean made strong coffee and is trying to get him a little bit more talkative.”

“Right.” Sam nervously looked at Meg. The demon was staring, black-eyed, at the street as dawn started to turn the sky violets and reds. One finger was curling a strand of hair absently while her other hand was resting on her stomach. With one eye on Castiel, he quietly stood beside her and looked out the window. 

“I need to ask you something.”

Meg’s eyes jerked towards him and Castiel glanced up from his reading as well.

“Me? Like what product I use to get my hair into these bouncy, sexy waves?” she drawled and Sam glared at her, not in the mood for her levity.

“About the Lethe.” Something closed up in Meg, a physical flinch that carried through her entire body. He could see the anger tensing her up but Sam kept going. “You’re the only one who knows anything about it, Meg. I- we need your help.”

The demon crossed her arms over her chest and turned towards him a little. She took in a deep breath and then nodded. “Okay. Shoot.”

“What’s it like?” 

Meg stared. No one had really asked her that. It had become a conversation Castiel had avoided and she’d been happy to not think about it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the angel was reading again but she had the feeling he was eavesdropping anyway. 

“Paradise, that’s the closest I can think of, but without the actual Heaven side of things. It is everything you never thought you could want: contentment, protection, love, wholeness. Things you don’t always find in this world.” Meg knew that Castiel was watching her closely now, as if trying to see if she was badly affected by Sam’s question. They both clearly remembered the months before, and her state of near catatonia.

“So this… Chaos, this Oblivion, She…Sheol?” He coughed around the word and then took a seat on the window frame. “So you’re saying this Sheol wants to destroy the world so that everyone in it can belong to a better one?”

“Define better.”

Sam waved his hand in the air. “Well I mean, Paradise sounds good.”

“ Lethe isn’t Heaven, Sam.  I don’t have much for comparison, I’ve never been there except in a metaphorical way.” She took advantage of his turned head to grin and wink at Castiel. The angel blinked, a little confused before the sexual innuendo became clear and he looked back down at his book, unable to hide his smug grin. “Heaven’s all Light and warmth, a reward by giving you bliss. It hides the horrors, lets you relive the good memories and only the good. Right?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“And it isn’t Hell. Hell is fire, blood. Every torture you can imagine because it brings those horrors you deserved to the surface. Both places you retain yourself. But Lethe washes it clean off of your soul. It’s purified and cleansed until you are numb to it all. You don’t retain your soul. You become part of a whole and you lose what makes you essentially you. You lose yourself because you aren’t allowed to remember and you just become nothingness. You don’t really feel the same. You don’t feel anything except numbness. If you’re a demon, that can be a version of Heaven.”

“Lethe white washes it.”

“That’s the purpose. Like getting dipped in a big vat of bleach.” She raked her fingers through her hair and thought about it. “Sheol’s nothing like God. Nothing like Lucifer. Lethe itself doesn’t deal in that good and evil thing. It doesn’t matter to her. What matters is purifying and protecting.” Meg leaned beside him.

Sam sighed. “She must be angry with God. To do this.”

Castiel looked up at them both. “Angry with God? Why?”

“Think about it. She faces all of this, and has to continue doing her job, for centuries, watching God and the angels fight back and forth. God tosses a big blanket over it and drifts away. Abandons everything.”

Castiel put his book in his overcoat’s pocket. “Sam…”

“It’s just that maybe in the face of this whole thing being hopeless, she gave up on caring.”

Meg stared at him. “Are we still talking about Lethe, Sam? It looks like this might be a new obsession for you.”

He stood up and slapped his hands together. “Just trying to understand. This is messed up.”

“Right.” Meg’s eyes darted to Castiel and saw the angel staring intently at the Winchester. 

But before angel or demon could force another question, Dean opened the door. “Let’s go, kids. Before Chuck starts puking again and asking for a sponge bath.”

Disgusted, Meg shoved by him and headed out to the car. Dean watched her go and looked at Castiel, who was carrying a box to the door. “Something wrong with America’s Demon?”

“She’s been reminded of something she didn’t want to remember. I think she’s upset.”

Behind him, Sam shook his head and looked out the window. His gaunt and hollowed cheeks made his reflection almost skull like and he wiped his hand down his face, fingers pushing in slowly. His skin was clammy and cold to touch and he felt his eyes almost close in exhaustion.

Dean caught him before he fell. His brother’s grip was tight and Sam leaned heavily on him for a moment. 

“I’m okay, Dean. I’m okay.”

“Yeah sure you are. Let’s get you home before Meg kills Chuck and we all get arrested,” Dean muttered, helping him to the door.

~~

It was five miles to the bunker when Sam passed out in the front seat beside Dean. Castiel had been busy sorting through the box he’d been given, not bothering to ask for Meg’s attention as she’d made it clear she had no interest in Chuck’s gifts. So now and then, he’d read out excerpts of the mythology book he’d been reading since Chuck’s and Dean let him, sometimes indulging him by asking questions. It made the drive go by faster for the angel and the humans, since Meg had been strangely quiet.

Even when Dean tossed a half-hearted insult over his shoulder at her, she didn’t respond though she watched the angel now and again.

Castiel seemed to always turn the book to the same pages and she was irritated enough by it that she closed her eyes just as Dean turned a corner.

Sam moaned and turned over in the passenger seat, earning a worried look from Dean. He’d been talking in his sleep since they’d left Chuck’s hours ago. It was when his head slumped down completely, almost hitting the side window, that Dean worriedly called his name. When there was no response, he looked in the rearview at the angel. 

Putting the book between himself and Meg, Castiel leaned over the seat and pressed his hand against Sam’s cheek. The heat coming off of him was extraordinary and even Castiel felt his palm actually being scalded by it. 

“Cas, what’s wrong?”

“He’s radiating something. Power, I think. He’s burning too hot,” Castiel explained lowly. “I’m not sure I can do anything.”

“Try!” Dean was trying to keep the Impala on the road between his looks at Sam and his glances at Castiel. The angel nodded and reached forward to put both hands on Sam’s shoulders. His eyes shut and he focussed, fingers clenching hard. The soft murmur of his Enochian filled the car and Meg watched, biting into her lip thoughtfully as she watched Sam’s skin go from grey to a healthier pink. The Winchester took in a deep, gasping breath and Dean stared at him.

“Sam?”

“I’m… I’m okay. I just needed to rest my eyes for a second.” Sam blinked at Dean’s terrified expression. “Why, what happened?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, focussing on the road just in time to make the next turn.

Castiel slumped on the backseat, his forehead sweaty and his hands were trembling. Meg stared at him and saw that when he turned his hands over the palms looked like he’d been scalded by hot water, the skin red and bloody. To her, it looked like he couldn’t heal as fast as he usually did. She glanced at the Winchesters, saw Dean still driving insanely fast now and Sam looking more confused than ever before she looked back at the angel. Shoving the box onto the floor, she quickly slid next to Castiel until her thigh brushed up on his. His head turned at her closeness and Meg stared at him.

When he looked back down, she reached out and took his hands in hers.

Her fingers slid between his own until their hands were pressed palm to palm. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her grip tight and heard him gasp in pain as she directed what power she had to his hands. The skin went from hot to cold at her touch, her darker power causing his Grace to react a little so that she felt its bite. Whatever had burnt Castiel was soothed by her darkness and she felt him shuddering as he healed. When she let his hands go, the skin was no longer scalded and his Grace, his power, no longer fought against her.

Castiel stared at her even when she looked away and pulled her fingers free.

When she put her hand on the seat between them, he gently put his  hand over hers and let his thumb hook around her wrist. 

He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it, hot stuff. Can’t have your wings going extra crispy on me.” Meg didn’t pull her hand away from his until Dean turned the corner to the bunker and she resolutely put a bit of distance between them. When the car screeched to a stop, she glanced over to see him staring at her thoughtfully.

~~~

Kevin was half-asleep when they found him in the archives, holding a bottle of orange juice and a box of sugary cereal. He only blinked at their arrival as Dean and Sam all but stormed into the bunker, throwing their things down and quickly checking their alarm system. With nothing else to do, Meg and Castiel sat beside each other at the long table and  watched the prophet as he poured the cereal in the bowl.

Meg watched him so intently that he nervously stared back. “So you guys are real, right? I’m not having some more hallucinations?”

“What do you mean, more?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing.” Kevin promptly began to put orange juice over his cereal and Meg glanced at Castiel but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until Kevin took a large spoonful and bit down that he choked on the mixture of orange juice and cereal. He nearly turned green and ran for the kitchen, bowl in hand.

“Should we have warned him?” Castiel asked her and Meg shrugged. 

“It was fun to watch his face.”

“CAS!” Dean’s sudden shout made the angel flicker out before Meg could do more than look up and she sighed, getting up more slowly.

It gave her some time to think about the night before as she walked up the iron stairs. She ran her hand down her neck and over her shoulder, just under her shirt. The faint marks were still there from the previous night and she traced the swelling, unable to keep the grin from showing on her lips.

Coming into the dungeon in the middle of a heated argument washed away that almost comfortable feeling she’d had.

“Where the fuck is he?!?” Dean was shouting, picking up the discarded chains and throwing them down so hard they smacked into Meg’s leg. She flinched, feeling the iron burn a little when it touched her, but turned to look around the cell.

It was pristine but more importantly, empty.

It was as if Crowley had never even been here. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Meg whispered.

A cold anger built in the pit of her stomach, flared out and in until she nearly lashed out at Sam when he came next to her.

“He’s gone, Dean. None of the wards around are even activated.” He glanced at Meg, then at Castiel, who was running his hands over the walls as if looking for a weak spot.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed before he lashed out and kicked the table over. Meg found herself nearly echoing those words, though her reasons for being angry were different from Dean’s. His was out of his concern for Sam, hers were more basic. More vengeful.

Not bothering to say a thing, she stormed out of the room and headed down to the bunker’s hatch. She stopped at the archive again to grab her leather jacket and the bag Dean had thrown down filled with a few guns and knives. She sheathed one knife in her belt and sorted through the rest fast, almost tearing his credit cards and money out of his wallet and stuffing them into her pocket.

Immediately, the flutter of cloth behind her made her aware that Castiel had followed her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna find the smarmy dick and bring him back.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Castiel began and she turned, tucking another knife into the back of her jeans.

“No, what’s dangerous is letting him roam, half-purified and ready for revenge. Even you know that. I can work fast. Track him down if I have to.”

“I will find Crowley, you need to calm down.”

“Find him?” Meg slammed a knife down onto the table and stalked up to him. “How? Heaven won’t talk to you and the demons will be ready for you. He knows how to deal with your kind. You know it. I know it. I’m going to find him. You need to keep the Winchesters in line, because that is what you know you have to do. Not look out for me.”

“I can’t let you do this.”

“Afraid I’ll find him before you?” she tried but there was nothing amused in his expression.

“I’m afraid something will happen to you,” he whispered, looking up at the ceiling.

Meg stared at him and then waved her hand dismissively. “That won’t work. You can’t just leash me back just because you’re worried.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t want you with me.” He twisted his hand and his angel sword slid into his grip. He flipped it over and handed it to her. “I can find another. You’ll need this.”

Meg took the blade by the hilt, something in her expression suddenly embarrassed. Castiel waited and eventually she looked up at him. “Okay. So let’s just say I need to get hold of you.”

A little bit of relief showed openly on his face. “I’ll be there. I swear.”

“I’ll be running low to the ground.” She shouldered the bag and tucked his blade into her jeans. “But I’ll leave signs for you this time.”

“Thank you.” Castiel seemed to accept it faster than he would have before as he hesitantly cupped her chin in his hand.

Meg watched him, feeling his thumb smooth over her cheek and along her jaw.

“Be careful.”

She smirked. “Come on, feathers, you know I’m good for a few rounds. Might need to give me some motivation to come back to you but you know…”

But before she could finish, he lowered his head and pressed a brutal kiss to her lips. The startled sound she gave lowered to a moan as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. The bag fell from her numb fingers as he yanked her close, his lips moving rough but sure against her own. His fingers anchored in the hair at the nape of her neck, tightening until her scalp ached and she found herself crushed against him. His mouth parted her lips just enough that she felt the stab of his tongue and the warmth of his breath. A whimper she couldn’t stop was muffled by his groan. 

He let her go before she could do more than just stand there, letting him kiss her, and she swayed dizzily on her feet as she opened her eyes.

“What was that for?” she asked, almost having to cross her eyes to focus.

Castiel was breathing just as hard as she was. “I… It seemed appropriate.”

“Least you have the putting up down. Or was that your version of a ‘this is what you’ll be missing’ motivational speech?” Meg asked. Her pulse was racing under her skin and judging by the way his chest was heaving he felt the same way.

“Something like that.” Castiel fixed his rumpled coat and licked his lips. He looked at her one last time “I need to see if I can find anything. But I’ll come after you.”

He was gone and Meg reached up to touch her sore lips. She could still taste him and feel the imprint of his mouth on hers.

“Damn, Clarence, that is one hell of a motivation.”

~~

Kevin stayed hidden until Meg was out the door. He’d only heard bits of the shouting but it was enough to let him know that Crowley was gone. How, he wasn’t sure; he didn’t even care, he was so focussed on what he had to do. After that strange conversation with Death he hadn’t left his bedroom, he had been absorbed in trying to read more of the tablet. Not just the scrawled words. But also what it _didn’t_ say.

Reading between the lines with the Word of God was next to impossible.

Thanks to Death, at least he’d figured out quickly where Castiel would think the safest spot for an angel tablet would be. Especially since he trusted the Winchesters more than Heaven right now. Once he’d figured out where Castiel had hidden the tablet and now that they had come back, he could safely find it without the angel noticing.

Just inside the hall of the bunker, he balanced the angel tablet on his knees. The writing on it was different. More complex. As if God truly wanted to keep his Angels safe by making everything full of strange wording and even stranger variations of the Word.

Hearing Dean and Sam moving around in the depths of the bunker, banging doors, made Kevin realize how he could be found so easy. Grabbing out the camera he’d stolen from Sam, he quickly began to zoom in and snap photos of the tablet’s writing. He had to get the tablet back before Castiel went to check on it.

If he was lucky, he wouldn’t need to steal it again for reference. There was no way he was going to be able to pull its retrieval off a second time without Dean or Castiel noticing. It was going to take him a while to fix the spot so no one would notice what he’d been doing.

~~~

~~~~

_Weeks later…_

Lucifer hummed to himself as he watched the way the souls moved slow through Lethe’s waters. The reality had changed recently, as if something had been whitewashed through and brought to awareness a different sort of world. The stark hospital building was gone, the white walls and the fountains gone. Now there were thick grasses that lined the winding rivers that led to the sea, white trees surrounding where the souls could rest in strange white gazebos that glowed and sang sometimes.

Sheol was changing things and he had the feeling that that she was doing it out of boredom. She’d never explained what had happened to Hell and he hadn’t cared quite enough to ask.

As he watched yet another soul bathe and then promptly start to cry as the waters washed away her past, he knew he wasn’t as content to stay here anymore.

Turning around, he found Sheol standing in the middle of a fountain. Her feet just hovered over the water, not making a single ripple. She was staring at the clear surface and as he crossed over to meet her in the middle, he saw she was watching the Winchesters and Castiel. The reflection was watery but clear.

Her mouth remained downturned and Lucifer hesitantly tapped his toe down on the water to cause a ripple.

“Why haven’t you moved yet? Done something? It’s been weeks, nearly two months, in their world, we could have…”

Her head snapped up and he found himself fixed in one spot. “You’re questioning me, Lucifer?” The demand was low but he could feel the threat.

“No. I want to move though, to take back what we have. I need Sam Winchester or I will be stuck in these borders forever. He’s the only one that can let me regain what I truly am capable of in that world.” Carefully, he touched her shoulder and felt how clammy her skin was. “But you almost seem ill.”

“Concern. How touching, Morningstar.” She turned away and walked off the fountain, stepping down onto the grass. Lucifer followed her.

“You’re… bitter. Your warmth it’s - fading.” He couldn’t quite describe it. Without a soul himself, the change was only a small thing to him.

“I’m tired of games, Lucifer. That is all.” She rested against the side of a gazebo. Her eyes rolled up to the sky and she arched both brows. “Your brother is moving around the borders again.”

“He won’t leave me,” the archangel declared. “He knows what we will do is right.”

“Does he?” Sheol’s face flickered a little, as if a light had been turned on and then off inside of her. “Perhaps.

~~~

Michael stood at the very edge of Lethe, where white light gave way to complete darkness. He knew that the reality had no real ending, that this was only Oblivion playing a trick on him. But he took hold of his power and tested. As he had been testing for the past month. He knew where his loyalties lay. He knew what he had to do. Find his father, understand why this was happening.

His devotion had never been as unstable as it was now. All he needed was something, anything, to tell him his Father could still love him.

His back arched as his wings spread, transparent and unsubstantial even in Lethe. Where he was standing the sky overhead darkened and he opened now electric blue eyes to watch the lightning crease the clouds. He hadn’t tested this far before. Stepping to the edge, he stretched his arms out of the side. 

“Go.” Sheol’s voice was sudden behind him and he whirled, wings snapping in the air. But she stood, calm and pristine, beautiful in the glow of his Grace. “If this is so necessary then go.”

Michael didn’t speak as she stepped so close he could feel her warmth. She gave him an almost sad smile and smoothed her fingers down his cheek. 

“But the answer? The one you are so desperate to learn? You might not like what it is, Michael.”

Abruptly, before he could stop her, she shoved on his chest and set him over the edge of Lethe.

~~~

Kevin stared at the sky from where he’d been huddled up outside the bunker. He’d come out for air, for a chance to get some rest. With the Winchesters on one of their hunting trips, he was left alone with the bunker to himself. It was lonely and he had needed a bit of freedom after days being spent cooped up in the library. The photographs of the angel tablet were all around him and he had stopped trying to decipher them half an hour ago. No matter how many times he tried to read them, they weren’t any clearer. He’d wanted to ask Sam for some help but something warned him to keep the tablet’s writing hidden from the Winchesters for now.

Sighing, he took a long drink of his beer and wiped at his mouth. It was peaceful outside at least.

Something lit up, just outside his vision, and he turned his head to see a shooting star going across the sky.

Staring at it, he remembered, for some reason, the way Castiel had glowed when facing down Crowley. Before the light even went halfway across the sky, he was back in the bunker.

~~

Standing outside a motel room, Castiel lifted his head and stared at the way the light streaked across the sky. Something instinctive, something deep in the soldier part of him, roared immediately to life. He glanced back at the motel room, where Dean and Sam were researching, and then back at the sky. 

Something was wrong.

Grasping the edge of the trellis, he cut his hand and let the blood drip down his palm. With a fast, haphazard jerk of his hand, he drew a protective ward on the door and stared through the window at Sam and Dean. Sam looked remarkably well, the aftereffect of a recent ‘healing,’ but Dean looked exhausted.

Shutting his eyes, Castiel turned, searched out across the distance with his Grace, and found her.  Meg’s shadowy self was on the move again but he knew she could feel him as he let his power touch her gently. Close enough, like she always was; she was never too far away from him now. Like a strange little pulse of shadow that his Grace had touched and now kept in its shade. 

He let himself relaxed just a little. They were all safe. 

~

Michael woke to pain burning through his vessel, his body half-buried in the sand of a beach. By some quirk, he’d been allowed to keep that form, he realized dully, though he knew that the body wasn’t the one he needed. That didn’t matter as much as the sheer pain. He was a soldier, such things should be beyond him. But they weren’t. 

He ached and he burned.

The soft warm wash of power, Grace and Light, made him realize he had landed in some human’s version of Heaven. He’d been led back to Heaven, maybe…

“Father? Father please.” His fingers dug into the sand and the swirling darkness starting to go before his eyes burned. “Just a word. Tell me what to do! I need your guidance!”

His ears rang as a low hum boomed through them.

**“MICHAEL. MICHAEL THIS IS YOUR FATHER SPEAKING. YOU WILL NOT ASSIST SHEOL IN HER PLANS. YOU WILL OBEY MY WILL.”**

His head fell into the sand at the sheer agony the words cracked through him and he screamed before he blacked out from the force of the power ricocheting through him.

~~

It was always post-hunt, when things cooled down and people were saved or at least helped, that Dean watched Sam. He could see the differences in his brother then. Not that it was anything anyone else would notice. They were small.

But he knew Sam and he knew what he was seeing. His condition was slowly get worse, his coughs longer and more bone-rattling and his skin would go grey. Castiel stayed close, always ready to come when Dean called and sometimes even before that. If Sam thought it was strange that suddenly Castiel was present for such small things as Wendigo hunts or invading a nest of vampires that were making their home in the auto-wreckers of Detroit, he never said.

Mostly because Castiel would discreetly wipe his memory clean of each time he healed him. Though, as the angel had warned Dean, _“There’s only so much that can be wiped away before Sam starts to figure out how broken he is.”_

Dean was hoping to hold it off. 

Sam bounced out of the Impala and headed for the bunker, slinging his bag and Dean’s up and marching up to the door. Even the way he moved was strange; like there was a hyperactive puppeteer on the end of his strings. His limbs jerked and yanked around, but with such energy he was fast.

Vamps this time around hadn’t stood a chance, Dean thought with just a little spark of pride that he shoved down under the concern.

“Thank you, Cas,” he muttered as he followed Sam inside. He wasn’t even sure if the angel heard him. The angel’s healing recharged Sam but he found it troubling to do so and Dean had to lean on him to get them done.

“ _I don’t think you understand, Dean. Every time I push this power into him, something in Sam breaks apart. It is getting more and more difficult to repair the damage to him.”_

_“Will it keep him alive?”_

_“Well, yes of course.”_

_“Then we keep doing this until we find a cure.”_

Castiel had only argued the once, but each time he appeared Dean knew he was not liking this new duty. Even when he helped them, he didn’t stay too long. Looking up at the sky, Dean leaned against the door and shook his head.

The angel had a habit of disappearing now. Dean wasn’t sure where he went but there were times when he’d be gone for hours, days, even a week sometimes. It was only his guess but he knew it was probably because of Meg. The angel was becoming more far protective of her, as much as he was protective over Dean and Sam, but his attempts to hide it just plain sucked. But he was always there to help them so Dean let it slide for now.

Meg had been an unusual help in letting them know of demon nests that were starting to crop up everywhere. Something was going in Hell if the demons were moving out in full force. They were organized and under orders to attack the Winchesters on sight. No sign or word of Crowley though and Dean knew the Demon King’s style was to announce his presence loud and clear. Nothing flamboyant or over the top.

It almost reminded him of when the demons had started surfacing under Azazel’s control.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice jarred him from his star watching. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Groaning, he pulled himself away from the door and headed into the bunker.

“Sam, if there isn’t a cake with a girl ready to jump out of it, I’m not interested.”

“Worse.” Sam held up a pad of paper as Dean came into the main hall. “Kevin’s gone.”

“What? We just left him in here!” Dean grabbed the note and read fast. “Where the hell did he… need to find something?”

“The note says he had to do some road research and he needed to get away from here. Not to bother looking for him, he was armed.” Sam sorted through the books left on the table. “But he left us something. He’s translated the tablet and started on the… subtext?”

“A tablet has subtext?” Dean looked over at Sam. “Right. Like what, homoeroticism in angels?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, as in, looking for what God was saying between the lines.”

“Great. So now we’re down one prophet, have lost Crowley, and there is something going on in Hell that’s letting more and more demons out. Super. Why am I not driving out there now to haul that kid back here?”

Sam was reading the notes. “No, this is good. I can read these!” his eyes almost glimmered in excitement. “The language is still old but I can translate. We’ve got enough reference texts. Kevin wrote that he thinks the cure is in the rest of the tablet and the notes.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do I do?”

“Find Cas and see if he can help figure out where Crowley is. Maybe see if Meg has found something. She was hard up to find him too.” Sam was scanning the notes. “According to Kevin’s translation, Crowley’s half-purified blood might be a way of curing what’s wrong with me. Sort of a… swap.”

“So you’re saying that demon’s blood will actually save you?” Dean shook his head. “Man, our world’s gone full on Bizarro.” 

“Probably. See what you can find with Cas. I’ll research this.” Sam was already reading the notes eagerly and Dean blinked. 

“Are you… wait, are you dismissing me?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah but Sam…” Dean gave him a puzzled look but Sam didn’t look up. That it was strange that Sam was suddenly so invested in his health, enough that he was willing to stay behind, made him just stare. Sam was already rummaging over the notes and making no sign of looking up. “Fine. I’ll grab some clean clothes before I’ll call Cas to that demon nest Garth told us about in Wichita. See what I can find. No wild parties, no girls unless they are non-demonic, got me?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Sam muttered.

“No bathing in marshmallow fluff again either,” Dean tried.

“Yeah I’ll do that,” was the only answer to that. Giving up, Dean grabbed his duffel bag and shuffled out of the archives. Sam waited until he was gone before he found the note that had really attracted his eye.

Kevin’s notes about Oblivion and what it could mean.

~~

Lucifer was prowling the Lethe. No better word for it. Sheol watched him from her favourite spot in the heart of it, knowing that Michael’s apparent ‘escape’ to Heaven had turned his younger brother frantic. He was always so volatile in these moments that she needed to be careful with him.

It was when she saw him raise his hand and set one of her souls on fire that she moved and moved fast.

Before his hand could lower, she grabbed the archangel’s shoulder in one hand and sent the soul off to bathe in the waters with a snap of her other fingers. Lucifer dangled helplessly from her hold as she pinned him to the wall of the gazebo.

“If you do such a foolish thing again, Lucifer,” she warned, “I will end you. Am I understood? They are not toys for you to use.”

He nodded but his eyes were angry. “Michael is gone. I am still here. I said I would help you but when are you going to let me make a move. What are you waiting for?”

“For the opportune moment. Do you really think I’d set you loose on the Winchesters and their allies without being certain you’d be safe?” she dropped him out of disgust. “Lucifer. Really.”

“You said we just had to wait.”

“We do. Because now the time is right. Michael’s presence will distract Heaven, and what I created in Hell will distract the Winchesters soon enough so you can do what I need you to do. Complete the trials.”

Lucifer eyed her suspiciously. “What trials?”

“The angel tablet. The one designed for the Host.” She snapped her fingers and they were immediately transported to a small white room, surrounded by tablets on the walls. Lucifer blinked at the sight, focussing on one he knew.

“That tablet was hidden. I did it myself.”

“And my demon knew where it was. She helped the angel and the Winchesters find it. It resulted in her first death but that is water under the bridge.” Sheol backed away from him and watched Lucifer check each tablet. “You can complete the trials because there are only two in existence who can.”

“Two?”

Her smile was cool. “What do you remember of them?”

“I remember the trials as being created so that the angels wouldn’t dare attempt them. We were raised as a family.”

“Angel trials don’t require the spells as your kind are magic and God’s power personified. So they are simply tasks. The result is not exactly closing the Gates of Heaven, those must stay open until Time ends. They deal with the angels themselves.” She began to tick them off on her hand. “A fall, the death of an archangel, a seizure of an angelic essence equal to or greater than one’s own. Only two angels have the ability to see through the third trial.” She pointed at him. “You, because of your fall and your murder of Gabriel.”

Lucifer flinched.

“And Castiel. He fell of his own accord as well and murdered Raphael.”

Lucifer turned his head. He didn’t need to be reminded that if it wasn’t for Michael, he’d be the last of his kind.

“Only the last part remains. I would not ask of you to take your elder brother’s lifeforce. Therefore the alternative is to take the essence of the angel Castiel. He is the only seraph of any such strength left, and he did openly defy Raphael of all angels. Since Metatron is hidden from us all, he is our only good choice. Do you understand?”

“So I trap Castiel.”

“Steal his Grace.” She snapped her fingers and an angel sword appeared, almost humming. Lucifer gingerly wrapped his fingers around it and felt the power from it. “That can help you. When the tablet is completed, the angels will come to Lethe to be purified. You can have your family back, Lucifer, and they will be yours.”

She smoothed her hand down his face. “It is very simple. We can finish this all. The Apocalypse, you know, would have left you alone and miserable. This… this gives you the others. You can recreate Heaven in Lethe, how you wished it. No monkeys to steal your love, no bowing to anyone.”

The lure of it snared his vanity. 

“I’m free to do this how I want?” he demanded and she stared at him.

“Do not kill my demon. I don’t care what you do to the others. Not this time.”

~~

Castiel was less than impressed to be stuck in the Impala when Dean called him. He didn’t like the idea of hunting the demons so openly and he made that loud and clear.

“Come on, Cas. You’d almost think I’d kept you from something,” Dean drawled lightly and Castiel huffed. He had his usual book in his hand, one that he wouldn’t let Dean read. There was always a book around him these days it seemed. Most of the time, it was always the same one. As if he was looking for something or trying to decide something.

“I have my own things to do, Dean. Not everything is about you.” 

“Cranky.”

“Very much so. Where are we going?”

“Well, Wichita, I think.” Dean glanced at him. “Can you get our Demon Friday on the phone, ask her to meet us there?”

Dean watched Castiel sort it out. “You want Meg there? Why?”

“Because I think this Sheol knows what is wrong with Sam. I want answers and maybe Meg has them.”

“She doesn’t like remembering the Lethe,” Castiel snapped defensively.

“Yeah well.” Dean reminded himself to stay calm. “We need her help. She’s been tracking the demons, right?”

“There’s been something going on, yes. No sign of Crowley but the demons are organized, as if they are being ruled.” Castiel adjusted his coat and tucked the book into his pocket. “Meg said it was like watching one of the old demons, like Lilith or Azazel, take control.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Some bad ass demon rose through the ranks and now he’s ruling them all.”

Castiel nodded and looked at him. “How is Sam?”

“Okay so far. Look, I was thinking that…”

But Castiel was staring out the window at an upcoming sign for a dive bar. As Dean started to pass it, he pointed at the full parking lot. “Pull over here.”

“What? Why?”

“Please.” It was a disguised order and Dean quickly pulled over into the lot. Castiel seemed ready to leap out of the car even when Dean parked the car near the garage that was a few doors down from the bar. 

“You craving a beer or something?” Dean asked, frowning. He got out and leaned on the car hood over at Castiel. “Man, we can find a better place.”

“There are demons here.” Castiel looked pointedly at a tourist bus parked. “They just arrived.”

“So you want to get your smite on?” Dean asked almost eagerly but Castiel was already headed to the bar. 

“Meg is here too,” the angel said over his shoulder.

Dean almost tripped but caught himself and jogged up beside Castiel. “I’m not going to ask how you know that,” he grumbled.

“Fine.” 

He eyed Castiel. “But how did you know that?”

“That is complicated.”

“When isn’t it with Meg?” Dean muttered.

~~

It had been a long six weeks, made worse by not knowing anything more than she had when she had set out. Meg was even used to how strange it was to be hunting demons now. She had been able to kill a few here and there, but most of her time was spent keeping her ear to the ground. But there was nothing. Only some rumours she’d heard had been enough to make her wonder who was it charge. Not knowing made her more than a little concerned that she was about to find out something she didn’t want to.

Still, at least her weeks on the road weren’t always lonely.

Meg sat at one end of the bar, half-hidden behind the mirror and stacks of glasses, watching the crowd in the bar slowly drink their lives away. Tilting her head on the side, she lifted a hand and twisted it in the air. There was a loud clunk and then a few shouts from the men as several bottles exploded in the air, a spray of liquor raining down on them. 

Biting back a grin, she looked back down at the magazine she was reading. Bored wasn’t about to describe how she felt as she lazily stabbed a knife into her now cold burger.

“Was that really necessary?”

Without turning her head, she grinned at the glossy pages. She’d thought she felt him arrive. “Made me feel better for sure.”

She tilted her head back and looked up into a pair of blue eyes.

Castiel sighed and took a seat beside her, close enough that his thigh nudged hers. “Making these people upset is rather…”

“Demonic?” she offered, turning a page. 

“I was going to say beneath you.”

“Still fun.” She glanced at him and then at where Dean was trying to order beer from the busy bartender. “Saw you show up with the Deano. How’s the hunting going?”

He shook his head. “Sam is getting steadily worse. Every time I heal him, the time between him feeling better and getting worse gets smaller and smaller. He’s too damaged.”

“Sounds like a problem. Any closer on figuring out a cure?” she asked nonchalantly and he sighed. “That’s a no. What does the world’s cutest prophet have to say?”

“Dean said that he’s not at the bunker. I can’t find him either.”

Meg set the magazine down and stared at him. “What?”

“He left a note, saying he was going to find answers.”

“What do you mean he ‘left a note’? Crowley’s gone, he could have taken him, he could have-“

“Hell believes Crowley to be dead, Meg, they have for nearly two months now.” Neither of them needed to be reminded of the slow crawl of demons suddenly coming out. No longer wild and unstable. The demons acted controlled and vicious. Like an army in the making.

“Yeah, because that is such a good plan,” Meg snapped and Castiel gave her a look.

“Meg. Don’t.”

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her magazine again. He watched her thoughtfully and she felt his elbow nudge hers.

“I’ve been looking for you for a few days, since that demon nest you told Dean about in Lexington. You weren’t at the safe-house or the motels you typically stay in so I was concerned,” he said finally and she shrugged a shoulder. 

“You know me. Free-range demon and all.”

“I know but I still like to be sure that you’re safe. You could have at least called for me.”

Meg rolled her eyes and gave up on reading, setting the magazine beside her. She looked at the other side, where she was certain there was a meeting going on in the pool room; demon or human, she wasn’t really sure. But he wasn’t going to let it go if she didn’t answer him.

“Yeah, I get it. You’re the guardian angel of the Winchesters and a demon. And you are just one big feathery ball of gooey protective warmth, aren’t you? Gets me all tingly in the right places.”

She expected him to sigh and roll his eyes, get all huffy, but he didn’t.

Castiel reached over and turned her face toward him, his palm cupping her chin. Meg stared back as he moved forward on the barstool and kissed her, lips sliding over hers with a familiar warmth. She stayed still as his mouth gently nudged her lips apart and his breath exhaled gently. Her eyes closed and she soon leaned into the kiss, feeling that hunger build instantly in the pit of her stomach. Reaching up, she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled, tasting his tongue as she deepened the kiss. Castiel made an odd sound, pressing into her and holding onto her smaller body.

When they broke apart, his eyes were impossibly dark blue, and Meg drew her teeth along his lower lip before letting him go.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “What was that for?” Meg asked when she found her voice. Castiel shrugged, trying to look casual.

“I assumed such gestures would be appreciated. I missed you.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Poetry. You don’t need to do it. We weren’t apart that long.”

“I know but I was relieved to find you again all the same.” His fingers slipped away from her waist and he settled back on his bar stool, staring at the counter. Meg watched him watch Dean order the alcohol until suddenly something large and smelling of whiskey got in her way.

A heavy set man, easily topping her by a foot, leaned on the bar between her and Castiel. “Hey. I’m Gary.” She eyed him and realized what was about to happen the minute he leered at her. “Baby, you are beautiful.”

Meg smirked up at him. “Gee, you think so?”

Her admirer nodded. “Love to get you on your knees for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Does that line ever work?”

“You’d be better off leaving with me than this shrimp boat here.”

Behind him, Castiel stood up and Meg watched the angel’s eyes dart between them. Unable to resist, she tilted her head back and pouted her lips at the drunk. 

“Really? You’re saying you could rock my world?” The old cliches always worked too well.

“Bet I could,” he said. He smelled of far too much alcohol and she was repelled by something reeking off of him. Desperation and that taint of demon’s blood. He was probably some demon’s bitch without even realizing it. 

“Yeah, about that?” She grabbed him by his longish hair and slammed his head onto the bar, holding him facedown. The bar was busy enough that no one noticed a tiny woman pinning a six foot four man down. “Get lost.”

“Bitch!” He twisted under her and Meg let him go. He aimed a slap for her and Meg dodged it. He stepped towards her, fists clenching for another blow, but Castiel was between them, his head tilted on the side. The angel stared him down, not flinching when the human came nose to nose with him.

“What? You want to take it outside?” the man spat out and Castiel looked around.

“There’s enough room here if I have to fight,” he responded so calmly that the man backed off a step. Dean suddenly wormed his way between them, setting down a few beers and a glass of juice. 

“Sorry guys.” He turned towards the drunk. “Just back off, man. Go sober up before you get hurt.”

“All this over some slut who was flaunting herself the minute she got in here? You got some three way action happening?” he spat out. Dean grabbed Meg’s arm before she could hit the man but Castiel moved fast, whipping him around and pinning him to the wall. The glasses on the wall rattled a little but no one in the crowded bar seemed to notice.

“Walk away. Now,” the angel warned, his voice never raising. The drunk’s eyes widened at something he saw there. He stammered out an apology and quickly slipped between them again, shoving his way through for the other end of the bar.

Castiel watched him go and Dean released Meg, turning back to the bar. Reaching out behind his back, Meg tugged on Castiel’s tie so he sat on the seat beside her. He looked perplexed still and she smirked.

“Not bad,” she muttered.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the point,” Dean said loudly and then finally settled down beside Meg. He glanced at her, then looked away, but slowly his eyes were drawn back as if he couldn’t help it. Meg was keeping a watchful eye on the bar and not realizing that Dean was staring at her.

Castiel noticed.

His eyes squinted and then he looked at Meg closely as well. In the past few weeks since Dean had seen her, her body had changed a little. The shirt she wore, one of her favourite violet ones she’d stolen, had been torn a little in the scuffle. The cut material was straining over her breasts, the lace bra she wore barely containing them. The sight made him stare as well before he realized why Dean was staring.

He cleared his throat and gave Dean a look that spoke volumes. Dean looked away immediately, blushing. 

“So, Meg. What’s the word?”

“Cubs are trading their souls for a pennant.”

Dean glared at her and she grinned. Eventually he looked away and handed her the glass. She made a face, knowing why he’d given her it. The orange juice was unlaced and plain.

“I figured you were on virgin drinks.”

“Well, there has to be one virgin in our crowd, I guess,” she muttered. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean glanced at Castiel who was apparently people watching.

“Anyway. There’s nothing that I can figure out. Demons are running all over the place but in packs.” Meg rubbed at her upper arms. “Word is that Hell’s got a new leader.”

“Yeah, who is he?”

“He is a she. In human sense of the word. Maybe Hell’s got a new Queen.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing is really out in the open.”

“Yeah, well, maybe…”

Castiel tuned them out as Dean began to try to pump her for information. Meg’s attention was for once on the Winchester completely. His questions about the nest, about the influx of demons, all seemed basic enough.

But as Castiel focussed on two small women who came into the bar, he didn’t hear another word. They were demons but to his vision, they radiated something else. It was a strange sight. They had that fanatical look he’d only see a few times before. Times during the Apocalypse. The same look Meg had once had when they had met. 

Devotion and someone’s Grace had touched them.

The demons stared at him and he stared back, blinking when suddenly they were gone.

“I’ll be back.”

He winged out on Dean’s protest and landed in the parking lot. The dimly lit space across from the Impala smelled of sulphur and ash, and when he looked to his left, the demons were walking slowly away from him. They were talking lowly and he blinked, confused because one was an old demon in the way her trueform seethed with power. But she wasn’t one he recognized.

He followed them at a careful distance. Never once getting close enough for them to sense him really but close enough that he could hear them talking about a ruler.

They disappeared around the corner of the building, between it and a small mechanic’s garage, and he hesitated, knowing he should go back for Dean and Meg.

“Castiel.”

The voice was suddenly in his ear, a low rasp and rumble that set him spinning, one hand going for the angel sword he was used to having on hand. His hand was empty, his own sword he’d long since given to Meg and the other lost in a recent fight with the demon nest. The explosion of light made him shield his eyes before he was thrown through the air.

~~

Dean jogged out of the bar, Meg close on his heels. “Damn, he still moves fast,” the hunter muttered, looking left and then right.

“He didn’t get the memo about not going off on his own when there’s a nest nearby?”

“Likely missed it.” He nodded at the empty parking lot. “He’s been distracted lately.” 

“Really?” Meg was smirking as she looked around. “I didn’t notice.”

Dean glared at the top of her head but she was looking around. She fixed on something. “So we should look for him over there.”

Dean glanced at her. “Why do you say that?”

“Well. I just know he’s there.” She shook her hand and he heard the singing sound of an angel sword going to her palm. “Plus, the demons are crowded over there. How fast can you move, Winchester?”

Dean stared at the group of men and women, all standing before the service bays of the massive old garage. “What the hell are they doing there?”

“I bet Castiel would know. Might be a better time to kill first, ask questions later, yeah?”

~~

Encircled in flame, Castiel opened his eyes to the stinging heat of it all. His body ached as if he’d been beaten around like a punching bag and when his vision cleared he saw the tool racks and lifts of a large garage.

“How?” 

“Hello again, little brother.”

The voice sent a cold cut deep into him and Castiel spun on his heel to come face to face with Lucifer. It was déjà vu; the same vessel as when they’d first met, the same calm stance and the same circle of fire.

“Lucifer.” 

The Archangel smiled coolly. “Here we are again, Castiel. With so much more for you to answer. Still hanging around Dean Winchester I see.”

“How are you here? You were in the Cage!” Castiel could feel Lucifer’s power as acutely as knife wound burrowing under his skin.

“So I’m not a hallucination to you. Excellent. That demon you have taken under your wing? She likely thought I was.”

At the mention of Meg, Castiel shuttered up a little. His face blanked out and Lucifer stood across from him.

“So she didn’t tell you.”

“How are you here?” Castiel repeated. “You were locked away.”

“Friends in high places. I was loved by more than just God and that is why I am free. Free of it all. I’m not the only one free, Castiel. Big Brother Michael. He’s out of there as well. He won’t be as forgiving as I can be.” Lucifer ran his fingers over the flames. “So how is Sam?”

Castiel jerked towards him and he smirked.

“Still so devoted. You seem to choose such peculiar things to devote yourself to, Castiel.” Lucifer held up his hand and counted. “Dean, Sam, an absent God, this concept of Free Will, and now a demon. One of my favourites, as I recall.”

The younger angel looked around the garage instead of into that pitiless gaze.

“I know it all, Castiel. How you’ve changed, what you did, and how you created an abomination of a creature with sweet Meg. All for a reason you don’t even know yet, that none of us knows really.”

He circled the flames in the service bay.

“Still. It was only the one time, I suppose God himself could forgive that,” Lucifer said, as if comforting him. But Castiel’s silence made him look over and he smirked at the way Castiel’s eyes remained cold. He easily read beneath the mask of his little brother. “So it was more than one time. It became was something more, didn’t it? Than mere sex. Doth lead you into temptation. I don’t suppose I can begrudge you that. Temptation is one of my favourite sins after all.”

Castiel paced inside the circle, enough to let Lucifer know he’d stuck a nerve.

“So you took a bite out of the forbidden fruit and acquired a taste, hmm? Not a perfect analogy, considering there was no one whispering in your ear when you made a grab for what you knew was not yours to reach for. There was no snake in your story, no scapegoat. You acted on desire alone. Almost admirable.”

Lucifer smiled at him and Castiel turned to stare him down. 

“Though you have to wonder why she didn’t tell you of my return. Maybe she’s still loyal instead of being the traitor the other demons are branding her as.” 

"She’s not yours." Castiel was speaking abruptly, as if to move it on. But Lucifer knew he had found a sensitive point and wanted to rip him apart.

"She is. She is a demon which makes her my creation, my subject. She was tortured and perfected to serve me."

The angel turned away. His power was stifled in Lucifer’s presence. More than it had been before.

“So why hang around her still, Castiel? Why allow her to live with that thing inside of her? Boredom? Not knowing if your humans will ever love you?”

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Not all of us use others, Lucifer. Some things we do because we want to.”

“You love her? You? Even knowing what she is?” Lucifer grinned terribly. “That’s pathetic. Even for you, an angel who adores and loves humans. But a demon?” He stared at him across the flames. “That is just all kinds of disgusting.”

“Why are you here?”

"You realize what it is she’s carrying? Apocalyptic threat if it goes uncaged. Free will of humans, the twisted darkness of demons, light of angels…" Lucifer’s face contorted into a snarl. “It needs to die."

"If you come near Meg or the Winchesters, I’ll find a way to kill you."

Lucifer’s frown deepened at the threat. “You? You are nothing more than a seraph, Castiel. I could end you here with a mere snap of my fingers.”

“Then do it. But I won’t let you harm Meg or Sam.”

“Then that leaves Dean, doesn’t it? Your precious pet project. Still not so righteous I imagine.” Lucifer leaned against an old car. “Do you destroy everything you touch or is it just these three?”

Castiel turned at the sound of fighting just outside the building.

“Cas?” Dean’s shout was muffled and over it both angels could hear a demon screaming.

“They’re going to make it through the demons I borrowed. That will be fun. Which would you like to see die first, Castiel? Your pet human or your pet demon?” Lucifer tapped his chin, clearly relishing the way Castiel’s eyes snapped to him. “Or maybe I can make it truly worth your while. Rip out that unborn thing from the demon. She didn’t want Meg dead but that baby? Perfect.”

Castiel saw Lucifer turn towards the garage bay doors, clearly ready for them to open. Realizing the trap Dean and Meg would be running into, he hurriedly looked for something, anything, that could let him out. Two low tow chains were hanging close by.

He reached out with his power, twisting his hand in the air and the chains whipped out to his hand. He slammed them into the back of Lucifer’s head and the Archangel turned, hissing as he healed the wounds instantly. Castiel did it again and Lucifer caught the chains in his own hand before they could strike down, his grip so strong that he threw Castiel down to his knees. Snapping his fingers, the flames receded enough that he could haul the smaller angel in to him.

His hand wrapped around Castiel’s throat and his nails dug hard into his flesh.

Castiel choked out a curse and slammed his fist into Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer barely flinched, just squeezed on his windpipe and lifted him off the ground.

“You know, I was hoping we could have had more of a little family chat, Castiel. You need some discipline in your life. You did do some bad things, even for an angel. Purgatory, Raphael, killing your own kind, the Leviathan… and now you would protect a demon from her own Father.” He brought him so close Castiel could smell the strangeness on him. “But looks like we have to skip the chat.”

Castiel continued to choke and Lucifer smiled. “Poor little brother. Guess Daddy doesn’t love you as much as you thought.”

Whirling, he threw him against the opposite wall, following him over. Castiel picked himself up, trying to block the blows that began to rain down on him. Lucifer slammed his fist into him again and again, until the angel’s mouth was bloody and his forehead was soaked in blood. He sagged against the wall, kept upright only by Lucifer’s chokehold. 

“I came out of the Cage to find that you, precious you, were revived by our Father.” Jealousy tainted Lucifer’s voice. “He left us to rot and let you live!”

He lifted him up again until he was fully against the wall and the force of his grip on Castiel’s throat pushed his head back. Castiel tried to strike back, lifting his hand, and he saw a flash of silver in the air.

An angel sword slammed into his shoulder to the hilt, pinning Castiel against the wall like a small fly as he screamed in agony. Dean’s shout was coming closer now and he heard the side door being banged against. Lucifer stepped back, leaving him dangling on the wall. His smile was cold and appraising before he turned and grabbed two crowbars off the shelf. Castiel tried to lift himself away from the wall, tried to do something to dislodge the burning blade in his shoulder.

“Almost too easy, Castiel. For all your reputation and I’m even a bit rusty. Something’s made you go soft.” Lucifer twisted and threw the crowbars at the same time. They buried into Castiel’s shoulders, pegging him to the wall and he screamed again. The other angel stepped forward and yanked the angel blade from his shoulder, a shining white light glowing from the wound.

Lucifer tapped the blade on Castiel’s cheek. “The things we do for love. Be easier on everyone if you had just left this alone, Castiel. If you had let that thing die. If you had let Meg die. Let them all die.”

The tortured blue eyes that met his were still defiant.

“But oh well. Not a big problem.” Lucifer stroked the blade down Castiel’s chest. “I need something from you before I kill you.”

Castiel felt a sudden flush of power against him, like ice and fire flowing over his skin. Lucifer lowered his head and began to chant aloud. Between the agony and the fear, Castiel saw the blade starting to glow blue. Lucifer’s eyes lifted up to his and in his reflection, Castiel saw his own eyes were glowing white. As he opened his mouth to scream, the light began to pour out of his lips.

He felt as if he was being split in two, his Grace slipping free of his trueform. It circled in his eyes and at the surface of his vessel, as if begging for Lucifer to steal it. What made him an angel was being stolen out of his vessel and torn from him.

Lucifer shook his head. “Such a peculiar creature you are, Castiel.” He grinned. “Or were.”

He raised the blade in the air and Castiel watched it with a numb horror.

Another blade flew through the air and embedded in his hand through the back of his palm. Lucifer howled as the angel sword tore into him and he dropped his own sword to the ground before wrenching the weapon out of his hand.

He spun and fixed the pair in the doorway with a glare. Dean’s own eyes widened in horror. Meg had flung the blade but both of them could barely move out of shock.

Lucifer recovered enough to give them a grin.

“Hello, Dean. How’s your brother?” he asked amicably and Dean raised a hand still holding the demon knife.

“That’s not possible.”

Beside Dean, Meg’s eyes went to where Castiel was still glowing, still fighting against where he was pinned. She didn’t feel Dean move from her side until she realized she was looking at the back of his head as he charged the Archangel blindly. 

Lucifer caught Dean before he moved more than a few strides, his hand catching him by the throat like he had Castiel.

“Yes, it is me, Dean. Already had this chat with my little brother so I’ll spare you the details.” He squeezed so hard that he could feel the delicate bones of Dean’s neck. “You and I? We have some unfinished business. I do have a bone to pick with you. You screwed up all my plans, you and your little brother. I think it is fair we think of a way you can repay me.”

He heard the sound of running heels on the floor and his hand whipped out to catch Meg by her hair when she was mere inches from grabbing him. Yanking her deeper into his grip, he forced her head back and hauled her in close beside Dean.

“Then there’s you, Meg. You disappoint me again.”

He threw Dean to the side like a rag doll and sent him crashing into the side of a raised car before he twisted Meg in his arms. Dean’s head slammed into the metal and he collapsed onto his stomach, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fell unconscious. Lucifer’s grip on Meg changed, just a little, and she didn’t dare move as his fingers pressed against her temple. 

“You could have been so loyal but you chose the wrong side. Pathetic. All of you.” 

Castiel twisted on the wall as he watched Lucifer stroke Meg’s cheek, the way a butcher might to an animal about to be slaughtered. Despite his own pain, he could see what Lucifer meant to do.There was nothing but hate in his eyes, and there was no rapture on Meg’s face. Just pure terror made worse by the blackness of her eyes. 

Lucifer reached down with his other hand between them.

“You know, she wanted you to survive this but I think if I am acting in self defence she won’t react. At least, I’ll get rid of that one nasty block that is causing her such problems.” His fingers curled against her belly and began to push beneath her shirt. Her power snapped back at him, hard enough that blood appeared on his forehead. Meg screamed as searing light began to pour into her as punishment when she tried to fight back.

Castiel tried to use his Grace to force the crowbars out but there was nothing there. The incantation Lucifer had over him held him still and he could feel the crowbars digging deeper into his skin, the blade Lucifer had been carrying still glowing on the floor. The bars twisted deeper and deeper, pegging him to the wall and he stared at the ceiling, trying to pull himself free.

“Now this may hurt a little.” Lucifer tightened his grip in her hair. “What am I saying? It is going to hurt a lot.”

He pulled his hand back and his fingers went into a fist. Meg stared in horror at him and Lucifer gave her an almost apologetic smile before his hand swung through the air. A curving arch of light followed it and the screeching sound of his Grace gathering filled the air.

The instant before his fingers made contact, there was a ping sound, like a tiny bell being rung. Meg’s eyes flashed from black to white and she felt an intense power ricochet through her. Lucifer’s fingers just grazed her stomach before a second strange wave of pure, uncontrolled power slammed out of Meg’s body out like a flash bomb. It shoved back at him and he cried out in surprise as he was thrown back, his grip releasing her.

His true voice roared through the air but was overwhelmed by the wind that suddenly slammed him into the wall.

The ping sound was louder this time and the demon raised a hand, slicing it through the air. It sent Lucifer to his knees again but he jerked up against the blow, scrambling to get his angel sword.

Meg twisted a little as the power coursed out of her in ripples, meshing with her own darkness and beating back the archangel until he could no longer stand. The sword forgotten, his arm lifted to his eyes to shield himself and Castiel had to close his eyes as well.

There was another flash, brighter than the first, and like an angel being banished, Lucifer disappeared from sight. 

Castiel reopened his eyes and stared. The garage was decimated on the inside, metal tools melted and the car windows blown out. But Dean seemed unhurt where he lay in a pile of glass and there was no sign of Lucifer. Turning his aching head, he tried to see through the evaporating smoke.

Her head lowered from the strain of staying upright, Meg swayed on her feet and turned to look at him. Her eyes were black now, her mouth bleeding at the corners, and he saw her shaking. The surge going through his body was familiar as his Grace flooded back to full power, the blade on the ground no longer glowing as bright. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Behind Meg, Dean moaned and slowly rolled to his stomach.

“What the hell just happened?” He was bleeding from a deep cut on his forehead but he blinked through the blood to look at them. “Did I just… Meg, what’s wrong with you?” 

Unable to move, Castiel could only stare at the demon as she tried to walk towards him, her footsteps shuffling. Meg was almost close enough to touch when her legs started to buckle. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed into a heap at his feet. Her arms outstretched to either side of her, she took in a deep breath and ran her eyes sightlessly over the garage roof, as if seeing something above her. Her black eyes eventually closed even though Castiel called her name over and over again, trying to get her to stay awake.

_continued in part two…_

 


	18. Shadows (When Demons Conceal) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eerie quiet after Chuck’s reappearance unsettles everyone, though Meg tries to hide how much that night affected her. When Crowley disappears, whispers of a new leader in Hell begin to reach the Winchesters. Sam’s struggle with his health causes Dean to turn to Cas for help again, not knowing what it might do to him. Frustrated and weakening, Sheol turns to the Archangels to fulfill another tablet instead: the angel tablet.

**In the Lethe**

**Chapter 10: Shadows (When Demons Conceal)**

_Part 2 of 2_

_~~_ ~~~

Kevin banged on the rickety front door, hard enough that it vibrated on its hinges. He was covered in dust and grime, his bag equally dirty, and his shoes were soaked in mud. Hitching a ride had been tricky- he had had to subtly splash truckers with holy water after all- but he’d eventually found his way to this address Sam had left out. He’d travelled here just in time for a storm to break out, soaking him and he was cold and starving.

Not to mention the trip had taken far too long in the first place.

When there was no answer, he banged harder until his knuckles actually started to ache. Over the pouring rain he could hear someone moving, talking to themselves as they unlocked the door.

“Look, Ned. I swear I’m not  deliberately taking your paper, it is just that it ends up there…” The man who opened the door was not much bigger than Kevin, dressed in a bathrobe, undershirt and boxers. His bloodshot eyes blinked at the younger man. “I didn’t order takeout.”

Kevin ignored the insult though it made his teeth grind. “Chuck Shurley?”

“Uh. Yeah. That’s me. Who are you?”

“Kevin Tran.” He waited to see if there was a sign of Chuck recognizing his name but it wasn’t clear. He simply stared at him patiently, as if waiting for some clue. “I know the Winchesters.”

“Oh? OH!” Chuck’s sudden smile was forced. “That Kevin. I got you. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. I need answers.”

“Fresh out of those, I’m just a hapless little prophet.” There was something oddly friendly in Chuck’s expression. “Come in though, before you get pneumonia, or someone sees you and thinks I’m getting fanboys out this way again.” He almost yanked him into his house and kicked the door shut.

Kevin looked around, shivering from the cold, and shifted his bag around on his shoulders. Chuck locked the door and then clapped his hands together, grabbing a pile of mail from the table and flipping through it.

“So. Answers. I can tell you the top secret ending if you want.”

“What? No. I want to know how to keep Sam Winchester from dying.” Kevin removed his coat and followed Chuck into the living room.

“You think I know the answer to that?” Chuck asked as he returned to his laptop. Slapping his mail down, he gave Kevin a dismissive roll of the eyes. “Look, kid, the most I’m interested in is finishing this story. I’m not really up on everything that is going on.”

Settling down in his chair, Chuck started scrolling through his text document. As he tried to find where he’d left off, out of the corner of his eye he saw Kevin rummaging through his bag. He was just starting to type when the prophet slammed the demon tablet down on his desk. The weight of it made his entire desk shake and he barely saved his laptop from being crushed.

“Can you read it?”

Chuck scoffed but Kevin saw how his eyes went almost hungrily over it, like he was picking out details.

“You can.”

“Well, I am a prophet,” Chuck said importantly.

Kevin watched him pick up the tablet and saw a faint glimmer of light go across the surface of it at his touch. Chuck murmured to himself, fingers tracing the chiselled marks and almost smiling. The tablet had reacted to his touch, more than it had to Dean or Sam, or even himself. Almost the way it had when Crowley and Castiel had split it apart the first time.

“I know you’re not a prophet.”

“What?” Chuck nearly dropped the tablet in surprise but Kevin held his ground. “What do you mean?” 

“A… friend told me. Two prophets can’t exist at once. I know what I am. I’m human. But you showed up out of nowhere after the Winchesters didn’t see you for years. Suddenly knowing about the tablet, Meg’s pregnancy, Castiel, all of it.” Kevin reached out and poked him in the chest. “You’re not what you seem to me. Even looking at you I can tell. You look the way I “saw” Meg’s pregnancy the first time, when I looked hard enough.”

“You guessed all that?”

“Prophet. Advanced Placement. It adds up.” Kevin sat down in the chair opposite Chuck’s desk. “So what are you?”

Chuck looked ready to argue, but then shrugged. “Right, well, I’m - actually, well this is going to sound a little-”  

“Are you an angel? Or some sort of monster?” Kevin asked, not liking how Chuck stammered over the words. “You know about the tablets and you knew what it might say. I saw the look on your face so…”

He blinked, only having one logical conclusion. “You’re Metatron, aren’t you?”

Chuck stared, caught off guard so he could only nod. “Yes, that’s right.”

Kevin was so caught up in his own revelation that he missed Chuck’s small grin as he took a seat down across from him.

“And I can help you find a way to stop the world from ending.”

~~~

There was numbness but still some sensations slid through her dull senses. Every muscle in her body was too heavy to move and her eyes couldn’t do more than flutter. There were arms carrying her, hands smoothing back her hair from her forehead as she was set down, gently checking her for injuries. But it seemed like she was underwater and no matter how much she strained to get to the surface, she couldn’t swim hard or fast enough to break free.

She was drowning.

An angry voice suddenly nearby anchored her and she struggled to focus on it.

“ _We need to get back to the bunker.”_

_"We can’t risk moving her far, you know that."_

_"Cas, we need to get somewhere safer than here."_

She drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing the purr of a car engine as she faded and then she was lifted free again. Groaning, she curled up into the arms holding her and tucked her face against a warm neck, trying hard to get free of that drowsy hold again.

 _"She’s not waking up."_ The arms set her back down onto a soft blanket and then the warm body was gone.

_"You think she knew about Lucifer?"_

_"Yes."_

_"I don’t like it."_

_"Neither do I."_

That tugging sensation started to pull her further under.

_"You still trust her? After he said she knew he was out?"_

A long pause and the more she struggled to stay aware, the more insistent that drugging pull.

_"I do, Dean."_

~~~

"You arrogant fool!" Through a haze of bloody tears and agony, Lucifer woke to an angry face hovering over his. Her expression was beautiful in its anger but he felt, not for the first time in several hours, real fear.

“You dare to try to kill her. You were going to kill her! After I ordered you not to,” Sheol whispered and her hand wrapped around his neck, yanking him up. “You forget yourself, Morningstar. I can throw you back in that lonely Cage if I choose.”

He choked under her hold, still trying to come back to consciousness. “I wanted to end this.”

Sheol’s piercing eyes went over him and then she released him, disgusted. “You couldn’t resist toying with your enemies. You’re a child.”

Rubbing his throat, the Archangel tried to ignore that slight, focussing instead on what had kept him from completing his mission. He’d felt as if he had been in another one of the Wars, when Michael had been the only angel able to cause him any true pain. His body ached and his Grace actually felt like it had been subdued and caged once again, though slowly it was coming back.

"What happened?" He sat up and stared at the entity. She looked at him with an arched eyebrow and he shook his head. "I was so close but something held me back. Then that… blow. It was something I’ve not felt before and Meg is just a demon."

"It wasn’t just her, you realize. It is something more deadly. You underestimated your enemy, Lucifer. That seemed to be perpetually your problem. But you did weaken Castiel in more ways than you know. So I am willing to overlook this mishap," she snarled, standing away from him. She stalked a few paces away before shaking her head. “You are lucky that that nearly went to plan, Lucifer, or something else could have gone horribly wrong.”

The Archangel stared at her. “To plan?”

"Mm." 

“I didn’t take his Grace though,” he whispered, stretching himself out on the divan and staring at her. Sheol’s anger seemed to subside and the smile she gave him was deceptively sweet.

“I forgive you.” 

As he nodded, satisfied, Sheol looked away and strained with her power to find the demon.  

~~

Meg felt as if her head had been smashed against a brick wall, everything in her soul and body aching. Groaning, she turned over onto her stomach and pushed up onto her hands and knees on a musty old cot. The amount of effort it took just to turn over made her feel even weaker. Even opening her eyes felt like it drained her.

_Where was she?_

Brief flashing visions made her move onto her knees, both hands pressing against her temples to try to ease the pounding. 

_The battle against a small horde of demons, all fighting with renewed fanaticism… Castiel glowing and pinned against the wall… Lucifer’s menacing touch…the almost nuclear wave of power that had decimated the garage… Castiel and Dean shouting her name as she blacked out…_

Her hand went down to her stomach and traced the curve there. She felt an almost answering pulse, like a warm push, and she exhaled slowly. The fear she felt inside wasn’t her own, her child was terrified; it made her press her hand a little harder and calm herself down. Almost instantly, the exhaustion was gone and she felt the fear leave.

“You’re awake.”

Her head whipped up to see Dean sitting on an armchair near where she crouched. She went to crawl forward a little, using the cot to support herself as she stood, but before she could move more than a foot she found herself unable to move. Her vision cleared a little and she saw the spray paint on the carpet circling the cot.

A Devil’s Trap.

Closing her eyes, she stood on her own and swayed a little.

“That was quite the… whatever that was,” Dean said in a conversational voice but Meg didn’t trust it. She turned and faced him.

“Thought we were beyond Devil’s Traps.”

“We were beyond secrets too.” Castiel’s voice drifted to her across the small living space, made her sigh and close her eyes. 

"Castiel."

“You knew Lucifer was alive.”

“I didn’t,” she whispered, tightening her fingers into fists. She knew she should ignore the fact that she was in a trap. It was what she would have done if their positions had been reversed. But the faint stab of betrayal was there, sliding under her skin, and it joined the pain from Lucifer’s blows. Shoving that down, she opened her eyes and stared at the trap’s marks 

“Really? Because according to Cas, Lucifer was more than happy to share those details.”

“I didn’t know.” She kept her voice flat and low, trying to sound in control, but her gaze went to Castiel. He stared back, impassive and cold, the angel she’d first met. The warmth from the past weeks was gone. He still held an angel sword in one hand and she found her eyes drawn to it. It looked more wicked than the one he’d given her; vaguely she wondered if it was the one that Lucifer had dropped.

He seemed completely unaware of the message it sent. It wasn’t even clear if he knew he was holding it. He just looked nearly robotic, as if he was playing a part.

“Were you lying to me, this entire time?” Castiel asked, his voice almost too low to be heard. As if his words were solely for her though Dean could hear. The hunter gave him a confused frown, but he didn’t look away from the demon. Meg jutted out her chin.

“You think I did? All these months and through this? You wanted me to trust you but you don’t trust me. Why don’t you ram that blade into me then and make it real simple?” she demanded but her hand was curled over her stomach protectively. His eyes glanced at the blade he held, staring as if it had magically appeared and he hadn’t realized it. 

When his head lifted and he met her steady stare, Castiel shut his eyes and looked away. The blade disappeared back into his coat before he took in a deep breath.

“I don’t think you lied deliberately, Meg. I’m trying to understand.”

“What if she knew the entire time? That Lucifer could be out. That this could be some big master plan of Hell.”

She let out a bitter laugh and tried to focus on Dean. Tried to ignore the fact that Castiel’s expression made something actually ache inside her that shouldn’t hurt. “Because that would make so much sense.”

“Then…”

“I didn’t know!” she all but screamed at Dean. He blinked, not expecting that. Meg rarely raised her voice in the past few years, not when it came to defending herself. Argued, complained, sneered but never yelled. Castiel’s eyes never left her face, even when Dean looked at him. “I thought… I thought he was in my head.”

Castiel took in a deep breath, realizing what she meant.

“What, like a hallucination?” Dean asked, sounding skeptical.

She gave a dry, humourless chuckle. “I’ve had enough of them in the past lately. I thought it was my own mind playing tricks on me. Do you know how often I used to dream of Lethe? Demons don’t dream, Dean, unless for a reason. After those weird dreams I had, I thought it was just… me reacting to what I’d been seeing when the trial nearly happened. Hallucinations ”

Castiel shifted a little and she saw his eyes soften just a little, his tense expression fading. He finally looked at Dean. “She did fight with you.”

“So did Ruby at one point.”

“The Ruby card… nice,” Meg snapped.

“And Lucifer attacked her. You saw how ready he was to kill her. If he thought she was of use, he wouldn’t have gone so close this time. It was only something else that stopped him,” Castiel finished, his voice soft. Meg listened at the way the two men were trying to explain it to one another and a part of her wondered if he had let Dean put her in the trap to prove something.

To prove himself to both of them.

When he looked at her, the sincerity on his face was open and earnest and she had to rip her eyes away to Dean.

"What do you want? Scout’s honour? Why would I have bothered to try to save your ass?"

Dean shifted a little. “He was pretty hard up on killing you and you did do a number on him.” He finally looked at Meg. “What did happen?”

“It has only happened once before,” Castiel said for her. “When I first tried to see what the child was. It’s a defence mechanism.”

“Sonic wave? Nice. Your kid came with a warning system that can destroy a building.” Dean sighed and his anger collapsed a little. “I just… Lucifer is back. Does anyone else think that is completely crazy?”

“You have no idea,” Meg whispered, one hand shakily going to her stomach.  

“Probably not.” Dean cursed lowly and Castiel turned to face him. As if they were deciding something together, he nodded. “I decided something, as we were packing Meg’s butt back here.”

“Oh I can feel the brain cells rubbing together,” Meg muttered and Dean glared at her.

“Shut up, Meg.” He looked at his hands. “If Lucifer is back, somehow, why hasn’t he attacked Sam?”

He barged so fast into that topic that Meg blinked and glanced at Castiel. But he was staring intently at Dean now.

“Perhaps he is planning something. And maybe he is not as strong.”

“Yeah, there’s that.” Dean rubbed at his face. “I want to keep Sam safe. And safe right now is him not knowing what is going on. I don’t think he could take it. If Satan himself wants him, he’ll have to go through me.”

“Lucifer won’t have a problem with that,” Meg pointed out. “But something is holding him back from taking Sam.”

“You almost sound concerned,” Dean snapped back and she stared at him.

“I don’t mind the moose. You on the other hand… the angels could fuck your ass and I wouldn’t care.”

Castiel looked at her sharply and she met his eyes. “Don’t look so shocked. Girl only likes so many bitch jokes before it gets old.”

“Whatever.” Dean shook his head and grabbed his keys and phone. “I’m going to call Sam, see what is going on back at the bunker, if he’s heard from Kevin. Maybe there’s something we can do. We keep him in the dark for now, to protect him. He’s already struggling to hold it together.”

He paused by Meg. “But thanks.” She stared at him and Dean gave a small, consolidating shrug. “You helped save my ass back there. I owe you.”

He nodded to Castiel, not noticing Meg’s surprise. “Go ahead,” he said, clamping his hand on his shoulder before he went outside to call Sam in privacy. 

Meg shook her head and turned slowly to face Castiel. He pushed away from where he’d been leaning and went into the kitchenette, dampening a towel. Meg fidgeted nervously as he walked towards her, not saying a word  and never looking away from her. When she looked away at the closed door, he sighed and knelt down.

Castiel seemed ready to say something but stopped himself, instead concentrating on rubbing out the marks on the carpet.

The silence made the tension worse and he finally spoke, still working at the marks. “I trust you.”

“Would have done the same if I was in your shoes.” She tried to sound dismissive as she watched him. Castiel stood up, tossing the towel to the floor. He took a few steps forward, so that edges of his coat touched her, and she found herself sucking in a breath, startled by the look in his eyes. She was free to move, no longer trapped, but she didn’t dare leave. Castiel hesitantly touched her hand, his fingers curling around hers.

“We should leave here.”

She felt the flutter as he moved them from the motel room across the distance. She closed her eyes a little in reflex but his grip stayed steady on her hand. When that rush left and her feet were on solid ground again, he was still staring at her when she looked back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized they were back in the safe-house’s tiny loft but Castiel didn’t let her go.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have trusted you, without doubt but Lucifer… And Dean was frantic.”

Meg pulled back a little and glared at him. “I didn’t lie.”

“Meg, you have to understand. How it made so much sense at first.”

“You didn’t trust me. Two way street, remember?”

“I trusted you. I do trust you. But Dean didn’t. He has all the cause not to. And I…I just needed to be sure…” He nodded. “I know how it is to hallucinate so often that reality sometimes feels unfair.”

“I didn’t think it was just a hallucination.” She looked away at the nearly bare but clean room. “I thought it was me making a choice.”

“Choice?” He was staring at her, never once breaking that gaze she could physically feel.

“A choice. I made it weeks ago and I’m not about to change now.”

"I know."

The words hung in the air and he cupped her cheek, turning her back to look at him. The movement was hesitant, as if he was expecting her to fight, and Meg tightened up. Reluctantly, she looked up at him and tried not to flinch at the look in his eyes.

“I’m not going to run.” He gave her a questioning frown and she gestured. “You can let me go. ” 

“No. I can’t.”

When she didn’t pull away, he pulled her closer and put his hands on her waist, fingers almost punishing in their grip. Meg looked away from him and touched the torn marks on his coat, where the crowbars had been embedded. His head bent and he watched her fingers almost push into the small holes, brushing the tender wounds. 

The sharp way he hissed let her know they were still sore.

Without saying a word, she pushed the coat over his shoulders so it landed in a heap at his feet, followed by his jacket and the white shirt unbuttoned. She checked the marks over his chest and felt him shudder against her. The marks were healing but she saw the cut from the angel sword, still angry red and struggling to heal. Her fingers slid over the tapered muscles on his abdomen and Castiel leaned down, just resting his forehead against hers.

“I wasn’t strong enough to protect you or Dean.” His breath brushed her mouth and she leaned up into him, pressing her nose against his a little. The contact drew him down further and she felt his lower lip brushing hers.

“I didn’t ask you to, remember, feathers? Self-sufficient demon.” 

She went to pull back a bit but his hands were on her hips, holding her steady. The contact was just enough that he rested against her, and she felt his Grace enveloping her. Enough to singe but not enough to really hurt. 

“Maybe.”

Before she could open her eyes he was kissing her and holding her so close she was nearly flattened against him. She kissed him back as angrily and intensely as he kissed her, feeling his hands going over her body slowly as if to reassure himself that she was whole. It was almost a pure, human feeling and she gripped him by his hair to hold him still. The shudders going through him felt strangely fluid and made his skin hot. 

The need almost pouring out of him clashed with her own. When he turned around, taking her with him, she pushed him down on the bed. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her tighter against him as he sat up, her knees pressing on either side of his hips. Meg felt his fingers almost clawing at her back, sliding and squeezing the curve of her hips to bring her closer. Grinning against his mouth, she sucked at his lower lip and deepened the contact until there was no room between them.

His hand pushed her hair away from her face and he broke the kiss, opening his mouth to say something. 

“I…”

Lowering her head, Meg kissed him to shut him up.

~~

The shouting in his head died enough that he could finally push it away. Michael’s Grace tore around him impatiently, as if demanding him to pay attention, but he couldn’t. He was hearing God’s voice in his head now. A never ending order, repeated over and over again, telling him to do what he had to so he could protect Creation. To bring back control.

For the first time in thousands of years, he was hearing his father’s voice.

Rather than reject it, he revelled in it.

“I’ll do what you ask.”

~~

Meg woke alone and feeling strangely cold. She’d become used, in the odd times she slept, to not being alone. After being wrapped up in warmth for a few hours, the breeze was nearly too cold. She curled up a little, pressing her fingers to her hips. She could feel the bruises and stubble marks Castiel had left on her skin, that she had let stay rather than heal. 

With a tiny smirk, she wondered how many of her marks he’d left on him.

Turning over slowly, she let herself wake up from her doze slowly, stretching out and staring at the ceiling. The light from the moon was just bright enough that she could make out the books now lining the walls across from her. Meg blinked. The shelves had been empty last time she had been here two weeks ago. The sheets clung to her as she sat up and stared, noticing the small changes in the room now that she could focus. The blankets piled up in one corner, an old armchair in the other by the window, a space heater tucked under the shelf.

It was looking almost… lived in. Confused, she tried to see if she was maybe in the wrong place. Maybe he’d moved them some time during the night. But she saw her clothing piled neatly on the chair, the familiar pale paint and the few things she’d brought in for spells and wards. There was the hum of the generator outside, lights flickering now and again. Castiel was somewhere around somewhere close then.

One thing she wasn’t used to was how utterly still this place was even when they were both here. 

Getting up, she grabbed her shirt and jeans, dressing when she realized there were lights on downstairs. As she buckled her belt, sucking in a bit to do it, she leaned over the railing. The overhang let her see Castiel sitting on the couch, reading again, and she rested an elbow on the rail, trying to see if he’d notice. There were a few bags around him but he was ignoring them, his head bent low over the book.

When she slipped down the stairs and rounded the corner, the way he already staring at the stairwell made it clear that he’d been aware of her the entire time.

She grinned at his almost curious look going over her, right down to her bare feet and then slowly back up. Though for him it wasn’t flirtatious; it was calculated and intense.

“Thought maybe you’d gone back to Dean.” 

Castiel tucked the book back into his coat. “I told him I was bringing you here. He approved. He wanted to try to get to Rufus’ cabin, to lead Lucifer off if he’s been following him or having him followed. He’ll be safer there. He’ll call on me if he needs. I think he wanted to be alone.”

She went to pass him, intent on seeing what he was hiding, but he hooked his hand into hers and pulled her onto the couch beside him. He let her go after a moment and he squinted a little as if trying to see if something was wrong.

“You slept for a while and I didn’t want to wake you. That was… you were rather intense.”

“You too,” Meg pointed out. She grinned at the memory and the way it had made her feel. It had helped erase a little of the tension between them. “Not that I minded.”

He nodded. “Neither did I. I think it was adrenaline combined with-”

She promptly put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t science me, Clarence.”

When she removed her hand, it looked like for a moment he was going to continue but he stopped. She arched an eyebrow and waited but instead, he sat back and watched her stand up. 

"What’s with the bags?" His confused look had her rolling her eyes and pointing. 

“I was told you needed some things.” Reaching over, he pulled out a voluminous cotton shirt in pink paisley.

Meg felt ready to vomit the moment she saw it. 

“What’s this?”

“According to the label, it is a ‘maternity shirt.”

Meg looked at him, seeing that earnest expression like a puppy, but refused to take it. Her expression made it clear she thought it would bite her. “I’m not wearing that.”

He ran his thumbs over the material and stretched the elastic band out a little. “Would make more sense as your clothes are starting to get tight.”

Her smirk was wicked. “You noticed, eh? I kind of like how it made the meatsuit boobs bigger.”

He held up the shirt at her and she obstinately crossed her arms over her chest. “I think this would suit your body better as it changes,” Castiel explained, holding up the loose shirt as if to show her. Meg gave him a look.

“I’m not wearing it. I figure you guys can control yourselves because if a pair of breasts sets you all off you don’t deserve to play any of the big boy games.” Meg looked down and stroked the top of her breasts thoughtfully. “They are looking gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“I don’t think that they are- I mean yes, you do look very nice but I don’t understand why breasts are -” Castiel closed his eyes and took in a deep, steadying breath. “The woman who sold me these assured me that this is what pregnant women wear.” 

“Right. And she couldn’t possibly have an ulterior motive, like say, wanting you to buy them in exchange for money.”

“I -

“How much did you spend anyway?” Meg eyed the bags at his feet and then another thought crossed her mind. “And where did you even get money?”

“I obtained a large amount of bills from a bank.” He looked embarrassed and she had to stare at him.

“Clarence, are you saying you robbed a bank to buy these clothes?”

“Among other things. Diapers. Formula. Linda gave me a list of necessities for you and her. Though some of it seemed unnecessary to me. Considering what we are, the need for something called ‘Lamaze’ seemed out of consideration…”

“You robbed a bank for me?” Meg bit into her lower lip and flirtatiously looked him over. “That’s all matter of hot, Clarence.”

"I wasn’t doing it to seduce you."   

“Would have worked. Bank robber Castiel, all in tight black…oo, yeah, that would be hot.” She grinned at his blushing. “Huh. I still got months to go you know. You don’t need to do this.”

He huffed in frustration and she grinned, putting the shirt on the couch. “Clarence. What’s this really about?”

“I wanted you to be comfortable.” He eyed her up and down as he stood beside her. “Your body should be changing though you aren’t as… round as I expected. After all these months. You’re still very small.”

She looked as well. He had a point. She was further along yet looked the same as she had over a month ago. Except for her breasts filling out there wasn’t much in the meatsuit to immediately show she was as pregnant as she was. “You expected… what? Huge bulbous body? Alien egg sac maybe?”

Reaching out, he tentatively touched her. Meg moved a little and felt his fingers splay out over the curve of her belly. He was concentrating, eyes narrowed and focussed, and Meg felt the way his Grace seemed to flicker through his fingers.

“She’s… hiding. She seems still.”

“Smart kid,” Meg pried his fingers off and he gave her a look. “Believe me, she’s in there. I know. Maybe she’s just a little scared.” 

“You can feel that?”

She wasn’t about to talk about that strange connection with him yet. Not since the baby had knocked them all out hard enough and she’d actually felt suddenly, incredibly protective of her. It wasn’t a natural instinct for a demon, she thought roughly. 

Meg saw Castiel’s eyes going back to the shirt he’d tried to give her. “Look, get me a good mens’ shirt and if I need something looser, I’ll wear that. Most of that pregnant chick stuff makes people look like they are wearing a tent.”

“So you want my shirt?” He sounded confused and she grinned, pushing up against him.

“You offering? I think it would look sexy on me.” Her lips ghosted over his as he bent his head.   

“I only have one shirt. The vessel’s.”

“Still want it.”

“No.”

“I can ask you nicely,” she said, grinning as his mouth opened a little and he shook his head. The brush of a kiss made her groan and lean up into him.

“No, you can’t.” Her hands dragged down his stomach and he nervously rocked on his feet, lifting his head away. “I’ll return the clothes.”

Her disappointed groan was softened by a smirk as she stepped back away from him. “Clarence, you’re gonna have to work on your bravado if you’re going to contend with Megstiel in here, you know that, right?”

“Megstiel?” He sounded puzzled.

“Or whatever.” She waved her hand at her stomach. “The whats-it in here.”

Castiel watched her as she moved around him back to the couch. She checked one of the other bags, made a face, and then sat down with her legs stretched out on the coffee table. He followed and took a seat beside her, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully.

“I’ve thinking about what happened with Lucifer.” Meg’s attention snapped to him and he felt her shift around on the couch to face him. “We need to name her.”

“No, we don’t.”

Castiel wasn’t about to remark on her aversion to naming.

“We do.”

“Look, it is just-” She leaned her head the back of the couch and eyed him. “For my kind, names have a lot of power. We need to be careful because of what kind of power it gives an enemy over us.” She paused and realized he was staring at her. There was a tiny half-smile just showing at the corner of his lips and she frowned back at him. “What? I know these things.”

“That’s why you don’t share your name with anyone after all these years,” he commented amicably, no malice in his voice. “I know.”

But she flinched anyway. “I’m more demon than human, precious. I barely remember my human name, let alone my soul name. There’s a lot of power in names, Castiel. Crowley hid his. The White and Yellow Eyes, they had their true names because there was no one to challenge them.”

He smiled but didn’t remark on the almost jealous guarding of her own name.  Meg sighed. She knew that look almost intimately now.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you? You’ve asked me it so many times already.”

“ I know you’re feeling her more. And if we have another attack like the one before, and this time it gets out of control, we should call her something.”

“You think that naming the Lil’Bit is going to be a way of controlling her?”

“Calming her, yes.” He gently stroked his hand up her leg until it rested on her waist. “I think that keeping her calm is very important.”

Meg watched his face as he tilted his head and stared at her stomach. “You think she’s that dangerous.”

"I think she is that strong. Like you.

"Fine." She shook her head and gave up on fighting his passive persistence. “What were you thinking then? Something frilly or something celestial?”

"I thought about naming her something after the light," Cas muttered, one hand resting on the swell of her stomach. Meg stared at him, not sure what to say. His eyes flicked up to her. "But then I realized she is more than that. She’s part of you. She shares in that darkness, and it’s that part I-“

The demon squirmed a little. “You’re getting pretty with the poetry,” she warned.    

He shut her up with a look. “It was the part of you I grew to care for.”

"Hell, more poetry," Meg mumbled uncomfortably. “Well. We can’t go calling her Grey Matter. Or It. That’s just cruel even for me.”

“Chuck gave me books to read in that box he gave us, and I found a name I thought was appropriate.” He shrugged. “It’s a very old name. Strangely, the pages turned to it on their own. Perhaps she wants to be named that.”

Meg shot him a disbelieving look but he was still watching.

“Well, Cas, don’t keep me in suspense. But you say something cute and I’ll kill you.”

Digging into his overcoat, Castiel found the book Chuck had given him for mythology. He handed her the book closed and immediately her fingers found the most worn page in the back. The pages flipped over on their own and the demon frowned, having to squint at the faded letters. She blinked and stared at the most vibrant of the black type.

“Nyx?” Meg read it quickly. “Meaning night. Shadow.” She set the book down a bit and stared at him.

He nodded and put his hand back on the small bump of her stomach. “You found it too. I always ended up on that page but I think she’s naming herself.”

He glanced up and met her eyes, thumb drawing a circle on the centre of her stomach.

Meg mouthed the name over and over again. When he turned his hand over, she handed him back the book and he set it on the cushion beside her. He immediately put his hand back on her stomach, watching her think it over.

“Nyx. Nixy. Nicky. Nyx.” She chewed on her lower lip and then slowly put her hand over his. “Easy to remember and short. Nyx. What do you think in there?”

She tapped her fingers over Castiel’s hand as if sending it out in morse code.

Suddenly she felt a pressure in her womb and a thump that carried through her belly, making her shirt lift a little under Castiel’s hand. His eyes widened with surprise and she looked down as well, not having felt that before. When they looked up at each other, the slight awe he was looking at her with made her stare back at him. Taking in a shaking breath, he looked back down and she watched him tilt his head.

“Guess Nyx is happy with that,” she muttered as she watched him slide his hand over her again.

   His fingers pressed down on her stomach and he tapped them gently. “Hello, Nyx.”

Another soft thump, stronger than before, and she winced at it. But Castiel’s expression of thoroughly shattered calm was worth the discomfort. She grinned.

“You okay, Clarence?”

Before she could pull back, his head jerked up and he kissed her hard. The spontaneousness of it threw her off balance enough that she just put her hands up to cup his face. The soft squeak of her falling back on the couch under him and the clatter of the book falling to the floor made him grin. His hands brushed down her neck and she gasped when he licked at her tongue with his. 

The sound of his phone going off made her groan in disappointment but he kept kissing her, fingers holding her to him as he enjoyed the way she felt. He hauled her up closer and she revelled at how he’d lost that shyness around her, how comfortable it was to enjoy his attention now.

The ringing continued and she sighed, pulling her mouth away and reaching between them into his pocket. Castiel’s mouth just brushed her jaw as she answered the phone, his teeth nipping at her when she cleared her throat.

“1 900 SEX GODS.”

There was a long pause and Castiel’s mouth stopped moving just as she heard Dean cough. “Uh… why are you answering Castiel’s phone?”

“Oh you know,” she held it out of reach as Castiel’s head jerked up and he grabbed at her hand, “he needed his hands free.”

Castiel grumbled and snatched the phone out of her hands. “Stop that.” 

He glared at her and sat back on the couch and she leaned back as well. Castiel gave her another once-over but she saw a small smile on his mouth as he warily watched her get comfortable. Shifting around, she tucked her feet under his thighs to keep them warm before she traced a circle on her stomach. 

“Hello, Nyx.”

Another thump, almost too faint for her to feel but she felt that strange throb in there now. Castiel’s fingers flexed on his thigh, as if he was wanting to touch her again, but he continued to mutter into the phone.

"Gonna be a bad ass if you can beat the shit out of an Archangel,” she muttered. "So what are you then, huh?”

Castiel’s voice was tense but he continued to talk low to Dean, and Meg watched the way his body turned a little away from her. The tension suddenly in him had completely erased the more easy-going Castiel of a few moments ago.

Before she could stop him, he was gone in a flutter and she sighed. “I’ll just stay here and talk to myself then.”

~~~

Sam flipped through the mythology books, jotting down notes. Every piece about the concept of Lethe, of Oblivion, was so heavily steeped in mythology that it was like he was having to determine how much could be reinterpreted or completely wrong. It was so confusing.

He didn’t understand. If God was so set on protecting Earth, why the contracts? Why the tablets at all? Why was this Sheol even interested in the souls unless she was tired of it all?

Resting his head on one hand, he felt the sudden clamminess of his skin. It was strange. After a day of near perfect health, he was starting to feel ill again.

Slowly, he picked himself up and checked his phone for a new message from Dean. Nothing. 

~~

Kevin had sat up for most of the night listening to Chuck’s nearly endless stories about the strange Supernatural conventions he’d been to and cosplayers that came to them. It felt like every time he tried to get a straight answer out of him, Chuck would just veer off to something else. He was exhausted and starting to teeter on annoyed. None of this actually mattered.

Chuck poured him another tumblr of Scotch. “So this one time, this one girl came dressed as Castiel and got into this massive fight with a guy dressed as Castiel and then last year they got married in costume as Dean and Sam…”

Kevin snapped his fingers.

“Focus. I just asked you for the millionth time about Sheol. Sam told me about her. What do you know?”

Chuck shrugged. “Some things. She thinks she’s so much stronger than m-my Father. Kinder, gentler, but admittedly she has a certain way about her that does lend to her being…beauti…. I mean, yeah, she’s pretty sexy…” Chuck shook himself out of that train of thought. “That’s not the point. She’s dangerous and she’s not better than God. She’s weaker.”

Kevin stared at him and then rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Look. If anything, the tablets you want me to translate? They rely solely on who is doing them. Sam, for example. He has to let go. But to do that is going to have a lot of consequences. The power he has in him right now is like a freight train running out of track. He’s going to get worse before he gets better.” 

Kevin watched Chuck take a deep drink.

“So why don’t you help him?”

“That’s not the point of the story, Kevin,” he said and Kevin shook his head. 

“Then what is the point? God has to have some point with all this.”

“The point is that sometimes we need to look at things differently. And do things we never thought we could do.”

~~~

Castiel came to the cabin, fast enough that Dean jumped at his arrival and nearly went for his gun.

“Are you hurt?” he asked abruptly. Dean stared and put the dishes down on the counter. The cabin was cold, the lack of heat meaning that he had to keep moving to keep warm, and he grabbed his coffee mug. 

“Uh no. I just needed you here for a while. Something’s wrong with you.”

“I’m the same…”

“I heard your voice over the phone. You were cagey.” Dean took a long drink and stared at Castiel. “Talk to me, Cas. Because I need to know. Especially if it is about you know who.”

“Lucifer.”

“Yeah? Scary motherfucker who got out and now I have to keep him away from Sam. The bunker is safe from him, if no one in Heaven can reach in there I bet he can’t either, but I need to be sure you got your mind in the game. What’s happened?”

Castiel looked at his hands. “I hadn’t realized something.”

“Yeah?”

“That Lucifer knew I could be weak. For the first time in years, I felt like I was doing something right. That protecting you all was something I can do and not fail at. That I was doing a good job.” Dean watched Castiel’s head lower as he stared intently at his hands. “But I can’t.” 

“Cas, don’t.”

“I feel as if I failed. Meg was nearly killed, you would have been, and my Grace would have been drained.” Castiel nearly overturned the table when he stood up abruptly. Dean watched him pace, a restless sort of movement that made him realize how angry Castiel was under that blank mask he loved to wear. “We all could be dead right now.”

“Cas.” Dean waited for him to turn and look at him. “Stop. Just stop. I’m alive. You’re alive and even Meg is not doing too shabby, now that we’ve figured out what she knows. I’m even willing to trust her on this. But we come to that bridge when we come to it. I need you to check in on Sam and get back here. We’re going to put our heads together and find a way around this. Because I need to know how much shit is going to hit the fan.”

“I can’t leave Meg alone for that long. Lucifer knows she is pregnant. If he’s been set loose, and he knows she is a weakness for me, like you are, like Sam is.” Dean stared at him but he didn’t notice. “Then she needs to be protected.”

“Fine. Check on Sam after you get Meg here. He’s gone for few days without healing but if he doesn’t need it, come back to me, got it?” Dean shook his head. “Either get her here or get me to her. I’ll protect her best as I can. That way you don’t have to fly between us.”

Castiel stared at him. “Dean…”

“What?”

“Why?”

“I’m your friend, Cas. That’s what matters right now. And we need each other. If that means helping Meg, then I’m ready to do it. For you.”

Touched, Castiel reached out and rested his hand on Dean’s left shoulder. “Thank you.”

He was gone by the time Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, don’t mention it.”

~~

Castiel was relieved. Still angry, still feeling hopeless, but relieved as well. Winging off to a nearby town, he bought Dean a burger as a thank you present and then flew off to the safe-house when he found something he could take for Meg as well. He had some time to think and he’d needed it before what was sure to be an interesting conversation with the demon.

The house was warm and he could feel the wards vibrating with power as he went into the living room. Meg was reading a Supernatural novel, biting into her lip as she slowly walked around the tiny space. Now and then, she’d snap her fingers and he could almost feel the types of magic and demonic power she was using. The spells were testing the wards and they were reacting perfectly. They were keeping her safe.

He watched her for over an hour, content with finding peace in the quiet way she seemed to be on constant guard. Like a cat ready for the shadows to attack. When she left one room for another, he’d make sure the walls were still scorched deep. Losing himself in protecting the house had helped him cope with the knowledge that he was next to powerless to protect her outside the house. 

His eyes went over her and he couldn’t help the way he felt as he watched her move like some dark, wild creature. Even though he tried not to, wanting to watch for just a little longer, he eventually let himself fade into the room, materializing from the shadows.

Meg was aware of Castiel standing behind her, his body just there out of her sight. Grinning, she flipped a page and began to read aloud,

_“Castiel had never seen such a strange creature as Sam Winchester. An abomination for sure but something more. There was a world of pain in such a broken human. His sympathy was touched; it must be Sam’s humanity, he thought, because no demon could evoke such emotion in him. A sympathy and a curiosity.”_

She turned and he was standing directly behind her, an annoyed look on his face.

“Truth in literature?” she asked teasingly, waving the book under his nose.

“You knew I was here.” He held up a paper bag. “I brought you food.”

“Oo, my kind of angel delivery service,” she said, willing to take the segue. She took the bag and popped a pickle chip into her mouth. He was staring at her as she savoured the bite of salt on her tongue and Meg chewed thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re hovering around me, Clarence. Not that I mind. Sometimes your hovering has its benefits.”

He looked away. “I’m going to take you to Dean. I want to keep this place as hidden as I can and if Lucifer is tracking us now, then we could lead him here by mistake.”

“I can stay here.”

“I want you both close. I can’t divide myself between you right now.”

Meg gave him a look. “Why do you need to?”

He looked at her incredulously. 

“I’m telling you that I’m good to go on my own. I was pretty damn close to finding out where the hell Crowley was and who is in charge before it all went up in smoke. It’s not Lucifer, it’s someone else…”

He wrapped his hand around wrist.

“I want you with Dean.” He had the feeling she was deliberately goading him.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t protect you both!” he nearly yelled and she flinched. Something crumbled up inside of him, as if he’d been struck by what he had just yelled, and Meg watched him lower his head. “I was nearly killed, Meg. I could feel all of my Grace leaving, and I realized I’m not strong enough. So I need you and Dean to help me but I can’t risk you because of it. I can’t lose you.”

“You can’t control everything, Castiel,” she muttered and he opened his eyes to see her standing close. Her fingers straightened his tie. “We’re just going to have to figure this out together. Remember? I told you I’d chosen.”

His fingers smoothed down her cheek when he looked at the darkness of her eyes. Meg felt his thumb brush over her lower lip, the caress gentle.

“Chuck was right,” he muttered. 

“About?” she swayed a little.

“I never did think I could fall or feel. Not for a human and definitely not for a demon.”

Instead of pulling away, she smirked. “Queen Corrupter, that’s me.”

~~

Sheol watched the angel and demon appear at the Montana cabin. It hadn’t been hard for her to figure out. She couldn’t follow Castiel or Meg to this secret place the angel had created but she could follow Dean Winchester. Where Dean Winchester went, the angel was sure to show up eventually. He took his duties seriously.

“Such pitiful things,” she muttered, testing the wards with a wave of her hand. She stood just outside the door, running her fingers over the worn wood. Leaning against it, she breathed softly and watched her power singe the marks on the door.

~~

Listening to Dean and Castiel plan something about keeping them moving, Meg paid only half attention. The odd sense of being split in two, in feeling… drugged, was back.

Turning her head, she looked at the front door, where there were marks still remaining. 

~~

On the other side, Sheol pressed her forehead to the door.

“Meg,” she muttered. “I know you’re in there.”

~~

Meg put her hand on the door and leaned. Behind her, Dean was instructing Castiel on what to tell Sam, and then she heard the flutter of the angel leaving. If she’d been paying attention, she would have noticed the way he kept glancing at her until he couldn’t wait any longer. Neither human nor angel noticed the way her hands went over the marks. The demon wards weren’t repelling her. It didn’t burn her to touch the iron etched in the door handle either.

“Something’s wrong.”

~~

Lifting her hand, Sheol drew a burning mark on the door, an Enochian symbol that was invisible to human eye. It flared bright, like a beacon, calling any angel searching for such a mark. She kissed the door gently and then disappeared.

~~

“What is it?” Dean asked, finally noticing the way Meg was backing away from the door.

“I don’t know.” Her eyes darted to him and Dean saw her eyes had gone black. “But there’s something.”

The sudden crack of thunder and lightning made them both jump and Meg lifted her head, staring at the flickering lights.

“That’s not Cas,” Dean muttered instinctively and they both backed into each other, so that they were guarded. “Cas…”

“Better start praying, Winchester,” Meg whispered, pulling out the older angel sword Castiel had given her. It felt comforting in her hand and she twisted it around. She heard Dean murmuring a prayer to Castiel, a fast one, but her eyes were on the front door.

“That’s not necessary.”

The voice was low and almost amused and they both whirled around to see a slight, handsome young man standing close to the kitchen. Electricity crackled around him, almost bathing his youthful face in white light, and he looked from Meg to Dean. 

“Not the prayers or the weapon. Neither would help you anyway.”

Dean stared at those familiar features. He’d had nightmares, guilts, everything, about that face. “Adam?!?”

The smile was too cold, too controlled to be Adam Milligan. “Not quite.” He stepped forward, circling around them. “Surely you haven’t forgotten me, Dean. You’re my other half, so to speak.”

“Michael.” Dean spat out the name with such hate that Meg looked at him in surprise.

“This is the other Arch?” Meg asked and her grip on the sword tightened.

“Yeah. This is the other bastard. Still riding my little brother, huh?”

“At least I remembered him, Dean, what was your excuse?” Ignoring Dean’s glare, Michael looked down at his body. “No. This is a construct of a sorts. Not exactly the most perfect of vessels but the shape is mine to use now.”

“Its never been yours. How the hell are you here?” Dean asked and he reached out with an arm, slowly pushing Meg back as Michael stepped towards him.

“Likely the same way that my brother is. God is not the only power in this Universe who has an investment in the fate of this World.” Michael reached out to touch Dean but the human jerked back. “It is good to see you so… healthy, Dean.”

There was a low threat there that made Dean’s stomach turn over.

~~

Sam moaned and turned over on his bed, clawing at his hair. “Stop.”

He only knew fragments of Enochian, pieces he’d picked up from old texts and the trials, but now it felt like his head was being flooded by the words. Memories of light and warmth, feathers brushing his fingers and laughing voices asking him for peace.

It burned.

“Poor little Sammy, tsk tsk.”

He froze, face still half-buried in the pillow, and slowly looked to his left. Sitting on the folding chair in the corner, shadowed and unclear, was a man. His fingers were steepled before him and Sam made a soft sound of fear. The face was familiar and he knew he was going mad.

“Hello, Sam. We need to talk.”

“No.” Sam threw himself over the side of the bed. “NO!”

~~

Meg flinched as she watched the Archangel move very slowly around the cabin. Michael stared at her, then at Dean thoughtfully. 

“I had heard that a demon was going to bear the child of an angel.” He turned towards Meg. “I didn’t think that Dean or his brother would allow it.”

“Yeah, because what the Winchesters say so clearly matters to me,” Meg snapped back.

“You’d be wise to show me some respect, I could have ended you right now,” Michael threatened lowly. Dean edged closer to Meg and he looked at the human. “And you’d protect her?”

“Against you? Definitely.”

Meg gave him a surprised look and Dean smirked. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just for Cas.”

“Even knowing that against me, you couldn’t possibly stand a chance? How noble.” Michael continued to look around the cabin. “Poor Castiel. My baby brother, falling for humans and falling for demons. I can’t decide what I should think.” 

Meg put her hand on her stomach and her eyes slid to black. Michael glanced at her.

“I’m not here to threaten you though. My Father has spoken. I’m here to help you in some way… or to get you to help me.” The Archangel waited expectantly. Dean looked at Meg and she shot him an equally confused look.  “Sheol. I’m here to help you stop her.”

“But how did you know about her?”

Michael sighed. “I am far older than Castiel, Dean. I know of her. And I know that you met with Lucifer.”

“Met is a light word for that. We can’t trust you.”

“Who can you trust? Her?” Michael looked pointedly at Meg. “Though considering what she is holding there, maybe. But I will not tolerate your disrespect, Dean. I am not Castiel and I am not Gabriel. I will end you if I have to, you and your brother, if it means following my Father’s orders.”

Meg caught Dean’s arm before he could leap at the Archangel. “You son of  a bitch.”

“That was a warning, Dean. Don’t test me. I already feel tainted at the notion of not killing that abomination beside you. I can help you. I am the only one who can help you, remember?”

“Help us, with-” The front door suddenly slammed open, bringing with it a cascade of rain and wind. Framed by the lightning, Castiel was already holding the angel sword he’d retrieved from Lucifer. Dean stared. “Cas, what the Hell?!”

“I heard your call,” the angel snapped but his eyes were on Michael. The Archangel stared back, all humour gone from his face. 

“Castiel. Hello, brother.” The younger angel looked at Dean and then Meg, and his intense look was noticed by Michael. “I haven’t hurt them. We’re negotiating. You need something from me, my help against something you know nothing about, and I would like something from Dean. His brother’s life does depend on it.”

“How are you free? You and Lucifer were caged.”

“Let’s not go over that again.” Michael snapped his fingers. “Stand down, Castiel.”

The compulsion slammed into the angel and he fell to his knees in shock.

~~

When pressing hard on the flesh of his hand did nothing, Sam reached for his gun kept in the dresser. Lucifer held up his hand. 

“You know I’m real, don’t you? Not like your big brother who is a little slow sometimes. Thankfully he is Michael’s problem.”

“You’re supposed to be in the Cage. I left you in the Cage!” Sam shouted. He knew how hopeless it was and he put the bed between them. His aching head and shaking body wouldn’t help him fight an Archangel.

“Not exactly. You and me, Sam, we’re connected. On a very deep level that only a vessel knows.” He smiled and stood up from the chair, sauntering around the room. “Nice digs.”

“How did you… how…”

“I have a friend. A wonderful friend who is hard to keep out.”

“Yeah, go to Hell and stay there. We beat you once and I won’t…”

“Won’t?” Lucifer tilted his head on the side. “Won’t what? You think I’m here to possess you? To start the apocalypse once again?” He gave him a sympathetic smile. “Poor Sammy. Not everything is about you.”

Sam dug his fingers hard into the heel of his hand but Lucifer remained.

“No. I’m here because I want to talk to you. Because you want your brother to be happy and at peace, don’t you?”

Standing just beside Sam, invisible to his eye, Sheol reached out and stroked his sweaty forehead. He resisted the compulsion but she waited him out until his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed onto the bed. She was there to keep him from falling too hard, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him back into her embrace.

Sam was barely aware that he was being held, that his hair was being smoothed away from his forehead. Sitting on the bed by his feet, Lucifer watched his reaction with fascination and Sheol let her power slowly heal the Winchester a little, just enough that he was lucid.

“You and me, Sam, we want the same thing. We want to be happy, content, our families back together. This is the only way.” Lucifer sighed. “I just want my family back.”

“Bringing about a utopia?” Sam’s voice was drugged.

“It’s already there, Sam. I’m talking about sharing it with the people we love, our brothers.” Lucifer stared at him. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

He looked up at the invisible Sheol and she smiled with such love that he let his own power wrap around Sam, helping him heal further.

“All that matters.” Convinced it was a dream, Sam shut his eyes.

“You can help Dean,” Lucifer insisted.

As he faded further, his body nearly healed but his mind being drugged, Sam felt fingers slid down his chest to rest over his heart. “Dean.”

“We just need to close those pesky gates and finish the tablets.”

~~

Dean jerked forward a step.

“You want to help us? Let him go.”

“No.” Michael looked at Dean thoughtfully. “You cost me and my brother thousands of years. My Father wants this world saved and I am doing it for him, as any dutiful son would. But for all I know, suddenly I can’t think why I should spare _you.”_

He moved fast, hands grabbing fistfuls of Dean’s jacket. He threw him over against the wall, knocking Meg over with a casual wave of his hand.

The angel sword went skittering out of her reach and she choked as she hit the wall so hard her head cracked on the wood. Castiel looked at her and she shook her head, waving her hand at Dean. Michael had him pinned against the wall, pulling him forward and then pushing him back so his head smacked a picture frame.

“Now you will listen to me, you little worm. You have no importance in the grander scheme of things, and you know this. You will listen when I speak because if you don’t, you and your baby brother are going to die.”

He was slammed into from behind and he rolled around with Castiel as Dean tried to recover his breathing, bruises already blooming on his skin.

Castiel was shoved down onto the kitchen table, his throat clenched down on. Michael shook his head, disappointment clear as he leaned over him.

“I am doing this all for us, Castiel. Understand that, I’m not your enemy.”

“You want to use Dean as your vessel,” he coughed out and Michael glanced thoughtfully at the hunter who was staring at them both. 

“Yes. He is my true vessel and if Lucifer turns on me, I will need Dean. But for now, I just want to finish my father’s orders. Which is to stop Sheol.” He pushed hard on Castiel’s throat. “Though I see you won’t trust my intentions.”

“Any reason why we should?” Meg called out, wiping at her bloody mouth, and he looked over his shoulder at her. He ignored Castiel’s wriggling.

“What else can you do?”

Castiel managed to get the stolen sword out, swiping it at Michael and catching him on his cheek. The Archangel hissed and backhanded him so hard his head rocked to the side.

“Castiel, Father asked me not to kill you but discipline was not out of the question.” He continued to lift Castiel enough that he could smack him repeatedly, until the angel sagged under the power of the blows and blood leaked from his nose and mouth. Michael brought him up close and Castiel started in horror at his eyes. There was fanatical devotion there but none of it was kind. “Perhaps some time spent in Heaven, in interrogation, will help you. I’m sure they would love to see you after the mess you made. So I can speak to Dean and this demon in peace.” 

He snapped his fingers but there was nothing to follow it. Having been ready to be sent through space, Castiel blinked and stared at him before his eyes slowly went to Meg. He shook his head, trying to get her to back down, but Michael had noticed as well.

The demon stared back, her hand outstretched as her power actually swamped the room into shadow. She was swaying on her feet, as unsteady as a drunk, and the blood dripping from her mouth was almost black. It held Michael off just enough as his Grace suddenly stifled itself on the darkness.

“You,” Michael hissed. His hand twisted in the air and sent her flying back, pinning her against the wall. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you but if you do not stay out of my way I will. To teach you some respect.”

He put pressure on her, just enough that her darkness receded a little and she nearly twisted around.

Something flashed through the air, slamming into him in reaction to the blow he’d dealt her and he staggered, surprised by it. It was a warning shot and he let Castiel go, staring at Meg with fascination.

“How can that be?” he asked. He took a single step forward but Castiel leapt forward, grabbing onto his throat.

Castiel cracked  his fist into his jaw and Michael staggered back in surprise. Almost blindly, he struck out at him and the younger angel dodged it. He whirled him around, the blade he had been using to defend himself parrying a blow to his head.

“Cas!” Dean shouted as Michael threw Castiel down on the floor, landing upon him to try to snatch the sword from his hand.

The blade sunk in deep, so deep that Michael sputtered and stared at it. The wound was narrow but the silver shone through as his heart was punctured. His eyes were fixed on the shining hilt for a moment before he looked at Castiel next. 

Castiel stared at him in absolute horror. “I’m sorry.”

Michael clenched hard onto Castiel’s shoulder, fingers digging in as the blade went so far that there was nothing he could do to heal it. Castiel twisted so he was straddling him, still holding it deep into his chest. The hilt of the sword grew hot under his grip but no matter how hard he tugged, his hand remained almost glued to it. Crawling light slid from Michael’s wound and up the sword’s blade, over Castiel’s hand and under his coat. 

His head jerked and he stiffened up as if he’d been struck.

Behind him, Dean and Meg stared in shock as his mouth opened and light began to flow out from his mouth and hands.

Castiel’s skin glowed as vines of gold and silver swam under the surface of it, his eyes turning white under the force of it. As his head bent back, he screamed in agony as Michael’s Grace, far more powerful than his own, swarmed his own and became part of it. Beneath him Michael moaned and shuddered as the last of his power chained itself to Castiel’s .

His own eyes snapped open and he screamed as well as the room filled with swirling lights, an Archangel caught in a death throe.

Dean shut his eyes and clamped his hands down over his ears as the angel’s screams grew louder, until it was nothing but a piercing cry so loud he could feel it shaking his bones. Sprawled on the floor, Meg put her arm over her eyes and felt something clench inside her painfully. Using her other hand, she felt for the tiny life force inside her.

“I’ll protect you,” she whispered. “I’ll protect you, Nyx.”

The words were strange to use when the room was almost collapsing around them but she felt the ache inside her subside. She couldn’t open her eyes, the angelic essence flooding the room so powerful that it would burn her out of her own body, but she heard a loud brass bell sound, wings fluttering through the air.

Castiel’s scream suddenly built into a crescendo of absolute pain, until it was his truevoice. The windows and glass in the cabin shattered under the force of it and the generator outside sparked. The flash of light that followed was a stronger wave this time, knocking Meg and Dean across the room and into unconsciousness.

~~

In Lethe’s dream state, the fallout of Michael’s death was felt immediately by his brother. Staring at the sky, he felt it course through him and in sudden realization, he jerked his power away from manipulating Sam. Lucifer screamed in agony and it was only Sheol’s knowledge of what was happening that kept Sam from noticing as well. She grabbed the Archangel and before he could pull free, she brought them both to the waters of Lethe, leaving Sam in an almost comatose state.

He didn’t matter when Lucifer was nearly dying himself from an instant grief.

“No!” Lucifer’s scream was his true voice this time and the waters rippled from it. Sheol released him as he twisted away, flying off towards the beach. But the barriers she’d created held him within the boundaries and he knew there was no escape. He sank to his knees and as she watched, his massive pairs of wings appeared to cradle his own body as he lowered his head to the sand.

It was an eerily beautiful sight, even to her.

“Michael,” he moaned pitifully, clawing the sand. He felt his brother’s loss so acutely. The way he’d felt Gabriel’s, the way he had, in a strange way, felt Raphael’s when he had been killed. They were all so connected that he felt it like a tearing on his own Grace.

“No. Please no,” he whimpered and he felt a gentle hand sift through his hair.

“Lucifer…” Sheol embraced him, her hands soothing him as the waters lapped at their knees. Bringing with them their peace. But all he could feel was his grief.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Lucifer clung to her. “He was my brother. He’s gone!”

“Yes.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “Castiel killed him.”

“How?” Lucifer shook. “How could he? He’s nothing more than…”

“The blade I gave you was still bearing your power, remember? It was enchanted by you.” Sheol scoffed in her throat and rocked him a little. “He used it on him.”

“Michael,” Lucifer repeated. “He was going to forgive me. We were going to be a family again. Castiel took that from us.”

“You can join him, once you’ve finished what he began. Just one measly little trial if we can do this together. One tablet is nearly completed and its mate is there. Then we can be a family again.”

She looked out at the horizon and barely hid her smile. She pointed and his head lifted to see a white light flashing over the sky. “Some of your family is already returning here. Where they can find peace.”

Lucifer could only stare as the sky darkened to black and shooting stars began to plummet into the waters in droves.

~~

When the smoke and light cleared, Dean picked himself up off the floor and stared around the room. His head ached from the force of the angelic screams and his body was so sore from the earlier fight that he could barely stand, but he pushed it down. All he could see was the way Rufus’ cabin was nearly totalled on the inside and the windows were blown out. 

Glancing out the destroyed windows, he saw flickering lights, shooting stars seeming to fly across the sky. He pushed it out of his mind as he turned and walked around the overturned table. Michael’s form, Adam’s body, was sprawled on the floor, a deep burn of black ash wings left on the hardwood. His eyes were open but the expression of peace made Dean look away.

His brother was gone and that old grief, one he’d buried ever since making Sam his choice, welled up. He’d hoped that maybe Michael had been lying, that Adam was inside that body waiting to be saved, but now there was no knowing.

Wiping at the blood on his lip, he glanced left to see Meg lying face up, her eyes on the ceiling. Her hand was tight on her stomach and she seemed dead herself until he noticed her chest rising and falling slowly.

“Hey, get up.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet before she could stop him. “You okay?”

“What the hell was that?” she asked and he saw that like him, blood was dribbling from her ears and nose.

“Got me. Who knew Cas had it in him?”

Meg rubbed at her stomach and then stopped, her eyes widening. “Clarence… Where’s Castiel?”

They searched the cabin together, stepping on shattered glass and destroyed weapons, but there was nothing. The angel was gone, not a trace of him left behind, and Meg realized that she couldn’t feel him anywhere in the room. There was no warmth lingering near her either, and she put her hand on her stomach. There was no response there either, nothing but a small feeling of fear.

Only the angel sword he’d used on Michael remained where she’d last seen him, still coated in blood and circled in ash.

Dean searched frantically outside, leaving her alone, but she knew Castiel was gone. Outside, Dean was shouting at the sky for Castiel.

“Clarence.” Meg shut her eyes and for the first time, prayed to an angel. “Come on, Castiel, where are you? I know you’re not dead.”

~~

Castiel swam in warmth and darkness, his trueform unleashed and free. He felt at home, as if he was in God’s Grace, in Heaven, once again. The complete darkness revived him until a low voice called and he realized he was no longer in the cabin. He’d woken instantly after Michael’s death in this dark place and known he was being pulled somewhere else.

Known he was being changed somehow.

The low steady prayers of two voices calling to him drew him back to reality.

Far below him, lying on the same beach where he’d had his first vision of Nyx, was his vessel. The water lapped at his shoes and Castiel stared down at the soaked body in its coat and suit. It felt so strange, the need to be back in that walking shelter, when he’d felt a moment of freedom.

Slowly descending, letting his intent drift over the brain-dead body, he realized that the freedom was not real. He was better here. Better here than drifting aimlessly like he had been just minutes before. His form curled protectively around his chosen vessel and slid into it like it was his second skin. Jimmy Novak’s body reacted instantly and he sighed, opening blue eyes to stare at the night sky. 

There was a flash that made his eyes widen, instinct telling him what it was, and he leapt to his feet at the water’s edge. “No. No!”

The night sky erupted in the distance, as if a nuclear bomb had been dropped out over the water, and the entirety of it lit up brilliantly over his head. In horror, he saw winged forms streaking through the overcast clouds, shadows racing through the air. The sight was beautiful and terrible all at once, as a loud ping sound screeched through the air. 

The winged forms began to plummet into the shining white light in the distance.

He felt the tug on his trueform, to follow his brothers and sisters to wherever they were being pulled but something anchored him, kept him from leaving. Enough that it kept him still and feeling like he was being chained here. He needed to get back to Dean and Meg, needed to be certain they were unhurt. But his eyes stayed on the clouds and he knew something was wrong with his family.

What had Michael’s death done? Where were they going?

“I’m sorry, brother,” he whispered to no one at all. But as he stood at the shore, with water soaking his feet and incorporeal power racing around him, he knew how deeply he’d been changed. It wasn’t to his vessel, it was to his true self. Slowly, eight pairs of shadowy wings, reflecting what he was now, slowly rose from behind his back and he felt with each movement of the new manifestation a different throb of power. 

The revelation suddenly tore into him more deeply than an angel sword.

Power he’d taken through more death, more destruction, and it had done something to Heaven.

Tilting his head back, he could only watch with grief and loss as he watched the way the storm raged in the sky.

 


	19. Sacrilege (When Demons Confront)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the angels being pulled to the Lethe, Castiel thinks he is alone in dealing with what the sin of what he has done. As Sam languishes in the peace and healing Lethe has brought him, Dean returns to the bunker and tries to make him see reason. Kevin stumbles upon Chuck’s true nature and learns that there may be another way of saving Sam’s life.

**In the Lethe**

**Part 11: Sacrilege (When Demons Confront)**

At two in the morning, the small Texas town was quiet with only the highway gas station still open. The gas clerk was bored out of his mind as he kept one eye on the door and the other on the TV over the counter. Weird reports kept flashing over the screen; entire cattle herds disappearing, arson in the next town over, meteor showers supposedly sighted few states away.  His dog, tied to the front rail, growled at something and he shouted at it to shut up before turning back to the news.

The door chimes jangled and he jumped when something moved impossibly fast to his counter. A small man with blood shot eyes and pasty skin spat up a mouthful of blood before leaning on the counter across from him. He was staring at him so intently that the clerk could only blink back. With a smack, the customer slammed a bottle of bourbon down.

“Nice night out, eh?” the clerk asked nervously and then frowned. “I… I never heard you drive in.”

“Cameinneedletheneedhell.” The words were jumbled together and the clerk quickly decided he was either drunk or high.

“Look, man, you shouldn’t be drinking this late. Go home, wherever that is, and sleep it off.” A quick once-over confirmed that he likely  wasn’t from around here. His fine silk and cotton clothes were torn up, his shoes were threadbare and split at the sides, and there was even old blood staining his hands.

Trying to be discreet, the clerk slowly put his hand on the gun under the counter.

“Go on, get home.”

The man looked back up at him and snarled. The change was automatic and reminded him of a coyote. He went for the gun just as a hand lashed out towards him.

“What the hell…!” he shouted.

His collar was grabbed and he was hauled over the counter until they were nose to nose. He could smell sulphur and copper on the man’s clothes, feel searing heat radiating off his body. Squirming under the grip, he tried to dig his nails in his wrists but there was no releasing that grip. The other man’s dark eyes slowly went completely red with twin orange flames dancing in the iris, and a slow stream of red smoke began to hiss out of his cracked lips. 

“You… you’re.…”

With only a hesitation, the man’s hand lifted up and punched completely through his chest until it came out the other side. The clerk made a chuffing sound of shock, staring at those red demonic eyes and twitching in his arms. His eyes rolled back in his head and blood bubbled up from his lips. With a twist, his spine was torn out and thrown on top of his body with a casual toss.

Crowley stared at the corpse, his head rolling from side to side as if it was too heavy to hold. His eyes slowly went back to brown and he wiped a small bit of bloody drool from the corner of his slack lips. Swaying unsteadily on his feet, he reached out and grabbed the bottle of bourbon from the counter again. He tripped over the body as he dug into his pocket and found a dollar coin.

He didn’t even look as he flipped it into the corpse’s open mouth. His walk was unsteady as he struggled to get to the front door. Sucking back a large mouthful of bourbon, his vision cleared just enough that he noticed the guard dog growling at him. He snarled back at it.

The dog whined and backed away from him and with a dismissive wave of his hand, the beast was set free. He debated on killing it as he slowly emptied the bottle and watched it whine and paw at the clerk’s body. 

But then that tug, that need, pulled at him and he threw the bottle at it instead. The dog yelped and slunk back, tail between its legs. No longer interested, Crowley slowly began to walk out to the highway. He walked along the painted lines in the middle slowly, his head tilted back to look at the sky.

“Snotfairsnotfairsnotfair,” he mumbled repeatedly, his words never changing. In two months, that mantra had remained the same and still he walked. To anyone watching, his destination didn’t seem clear.

But to Crowley, he saw it in his mind’s eye and he didn’t stop.

The female demon watched from her place on the gas station roof. Glancing down, she saw the lights flickering on and off in reaction to her presence. After what she’d seen and heard, she knew that this was too good to pass up. She’d had her orders to find Crowley and here was her chance. Unslinging her heavy purse from her back, she jumped down to the concrete below. The dog yelped again and hid behind the counter. The demon whistled as she pulled a heavy gold goblet from the bag. The smell of blood and sulphur now reeked through the entire gas shop. She smirked and looked at the corpse still oozing blood. 

“Still fresh. My favourite.” 

~~~

The waters of Lethe were full, both in the distance and closer to its centre. A storm had been created to let the rain pour over the souls and the newest inhabitants. Occasionally, another angel would fall into the Lethe; they would plummet into the waters and send up sparks of light and flashes so brilliant that the sky would turn white. Here they were nearly without their power and each had to swim to shore rather than fly. 

Every single angel made it to the beaches of Lethe, she made sure of that. Whether it was a dead one who’d been stuck in the Void or one that had fallen straight from Heaven. They all found themselves soon walking the beach paths.

That overwhelming need suddenly within the Lethe had balanced Sheol as nothing had in the past months. It rekindled her purpose and set her right. Here, her power was an active _thing_ , pulsing as it bathed each new essence. It lived and breathed on its own.

Each healing made her slowly lose some of her anger and frustration. She had a cause and there was no place for those. Her power was desperately _needed_.

Standing in a low gazebo, Sheol watched each angel make their slow way up the beach paths and into the grassy hills that led to the fountains and gardens. The souls already residing in Lethe ignored them, as they did everything, and nothing changed their patterns. The angels were confused, some angry and some afraid, while there were a few who had died who did nothing more than stare in wonder. 

She could hear their true voices muttering in Enochian even as she allowed them to manifested in a more human form, to keep the human souls from noticing that something was different. Their whispers all were the same: they were trying to understand why they were here.

“They shouldn’t be in the Lethe.” Lucifer’s voice was terse, angry, but under it were threads of grief. Sheol smiled at a bewildered angel and then turned towards him.

“Oh?” she shot him a look. “The trials were completed. For the most part.”

“But… but they don’t have souls. Our Father kept that from us.”

“But they do have the purest essence in the universe. And faith. That takes helps shape and give form, gives them a physical form and an essence. You were no different. All are welcome here, you know that.” 

She saw an angel whose essence was scorched. Sheol knew that her suffering was manifesting itself so that the form she took was all burnt flesh, and her lips parted in a frown. She could see the pain even from here. “For the sake of not disturbing the other souls here, I’ve merely kept them in a more human form. So that they… blend.”

“You took possession of the angels.” There was an accusation there that she didn’t like but Lucifer was looking so bewildered that she let it slip by.

“Both past and present. Those that were in Heaven came to me, the destroyed essence came to me automatically as well. Only those still living could have a choice. Clearly they want to be here”

“Those that weren’t in Heaven?” he demanded. “They wouldn’t be turned to Lethe so easily.”

“They’ll feel the call.” She swirled her skirts, eyes still on the burnt angel who was struggling to keep up with her bewildered siblings. “Unlike your Father, Lucifer, I will not force them to me. Doing such a thing creates unrest.”

Lucifer shifted anxiously and stared. “My brothers?”

Her eyes fluttered closed and she took in a deep breath. “Two are here. Where the third is…” Her eyes opened. “Isn’t here.”

“But is Michael?” he demanded and she stared at him.

“So single minded.”

“Is Michael here?!?” he shouted and Sheol sighed and pointed one elegant finger down to the beach. More angels had appeared; the dead this time from the first Celestial War. Lucifer recognized several as those he himself had killed. 

“There are so many. I had forgotten…”

“They’re here. They’re finally here.” Sheol clapped her hands in near girlish delight. “They all need me.”

Lucifer stared at the beach but then remembered the hours before. Of the soul that she had brought here. He looked over his shoulder at the young man sound asleep on a divan. “But what about him?”

She snapped her fingers and the soul disappeared. 

“Hush Morningstar, go to your brother. I have tending to do.” Sheol walked away from him, all elegance and beauty, and he watched her go to the burnt angel. The one that had been stumbling and struggling. 

Lucifer still watched as she cupped the angel’s face in her hands and leaned down to kiss her on the mouth. The flow of power from her to the angel was too bright to watch and he had to look away. When the light faded, Sheol was already walking away and the red-haired angel was swaying dizzily on her feet. She ran her hands over her now porcelain smooth skin and her jewel bright eyes were looking around her in wonder.

Lucifer looked away. If she was healing these angels, why hadn’t she protected Michael?

He saw Michael, still taking the form of Adam Milligan, coming up the pathway. But he knew that angelic stamp, that imprint on a trueform, anywhere. He knew it as part of his own, the way he would have known Gabriel’s or Raphael’s. 

“Michael!” He appeared in front of his brother and swept him into a tight hug. 

That Michael didn’t hug him back didn’t register to him.

“Brother?” Michael’s eyes gave a lazy blink when Lucifer pulled back. “I was killed. I’ve never been… killed before. It was strange.”

“Castiel.” Lucifer nearly spat out the name. “I swear that…” He looked at Michael, past the form’s mask and past the odd eyes. His own widened when he realized what had changed him. He let Michael go. “You. Your Grace. It is gone. You’re… as if you tore it out.” 

Michael stared back and Lucifer felt a pang of recognition and grief. He didn’t see another Archangel before him. He simply saw a fallen angel with no Grace, no soul. Just a being; less complex and far less bright. The listless look in those colourless eyes warned him that Michael was not the same.

“She brought me here. The trial brought me here.” Michael’s voice was unnaturally sweet and unbothered. He gave a half smile. “Lucifer, I feel at peace again.”

But all Lucifer could do was keep his hand on Michael’s shoulder. This was not his brother.

“I’ll find a way, Michael. I won’t let that arrogant brother of ours do such a thing and get away with it.”

~~

He had not prayed so much in years.

Castiel stared at the night sky and continued to murmur prayers aloud, until his knees were soaked from the rising tide on the Hampton beach and his throat felt hoarse. But the shooting lights that had lit up the sky were gone, leaving only an overcast sky and a moon that was full. The beach was quiet now, with a soft patter of rain slowly travelling over the surface of the water and the slow lap of waves on the shore.

 Castiel bent his head again.

“I am asking, begging you,” he prayed, “to tell me why. What has happened? Why? Why did this happen? I need a sign! Tell me! Please!”

Every move he made felt saturated by power and Grace. Though it should have made his limbs heavy, instead he barely felt his own movements. He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of it but there was no losing the sensation. Focussing on his hands, he thought he could feel it swimming through him as his own Grace was evolved into something far more powerful. 

Grace he had stolen was becoming his own.

His arms spread out to the side in supplication as he tilted his head back.

“Tell me!” he screamed.

Lightning erupted out of the sky and ground to meet with a crack that sent a new flash of light into his vision. The tiny rain shower quickly evolved into a thunderstorm, wind tearing through his hair and coat as he knelt on the beach as the rain poured down. Only an electrical current that swam out from his fingers provided relief from the darkness, haloing him in light. Castiel stared at the thunderclouds, at the streaks of heat lightning that turned them red then black, and knew that he had caused this storm.

He almost whimpered at the power that coursed from him.

“Why won’t you answer us? Answer me? I’ve begged you and I’ve tried to have faith. But you make it so… so hard.”

He bent his head and ignored the water soaking him, ignored the lightning that kept striking the ground around him. He could feel a strange call trying to lure him, one that tugged hard at his Grace. It was seductive, filling him with the desire to throw this all away. It would be so easy and that was why he ignored it. 

He forced out a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

He needed to know he’d saved them.

Before the next lightning strike hit the ground, was already just outside the door to Rufus’ cabin. He took it all in and heard the rumbling in the distance. The storm was following him with the same ferocity it had exploded with on the beach. Castiel ignored that as well and searched for Dean and Meg.

The Impala was gone from the drive and when he broke the lock to get inside the cabin was dark with no signs of them. The air was cold and there was nothing to hint how long they’d been gone for.

“Where are you?” He couldn’t find Dean, hadn’t expected to with the sigils carved into his ribs. But Meg…

“Meg.” He tried to focus on the demon but she was hidden from his sight now as well as impossible as that should be. In growing frustration, Castiel realized how alone he could be if he didn’t find them. He was changed and he was actually frightened by what had happened to him, of what it could mean.

Especially with so much at stake.

His shoe stubbed against something that clattered loudly and he saw the Archangel sword, now powerless, still on the floor. The wing marks from Michael were still there though the body was gone, and the cabin was nearly destroyed inside. Sheathing the blade away, he knelt to examine the drops of dried blood that stained the floor.

Meg’s blood and close by he recognized Dean’s blood. He could feel and smell the difference between them and knew they hadn’t left very long ago. How he knew he didn’t care. They’d been hurt. 

“Where would you go?” he asked the empty room. Dean had promised to protect Meg but that would mean the bunker, hours away. Miles of open road would lie between them and that safety. With an Archangel still remaining and his weaknesses exposed, Castiel knew he had to get to them fast.

The urge to panic he buried inside himself and he focussed on the one thing he could think to feel, the only other soul he could think that could help him find them immediately. He called out, using his true voice this time on such a wavelength that the nearby generator began to run on its own again, the radio and television snapped on, and windows shattered under the pressure.  He was looking for the sort of power and call he had heard only a few times before. The times when he’d been thrown out of the cabin, during Crowley’s torture of Meg, when Lucifer had attacked Meg… 

There was more than one way to find Meg now and he thought he could try now that he knew what he was looking for. Now that he had a name to call.

"Nyx."

A soft ping sound, like a tablet being struck, answered him and that tiny sound called to him in return. Still shrouded in a dark casing but still strong. His power focussed and he knew that Meg had kept her safe. It would be hard to track them precisely but he had time. He relaxed because he felt that strange hum and slowly opened his eyes. Unable to help it, he smiled and looked at the sky. 

“That’s my girl.”

~~

Meg jerked awake in the passenger seat of the Impala, her breath coming out in a gasp. Dean eyed her sidelong and then looked back out at the rain blanketing the road while sipping at his lukewarm coffee. He’d pulled over to wait out the worst of the storm and rather than talk to him she had dozed. 

Running her hand through her hair, Meg felt like her body was  sticky with cold sweat.

“Something wrong?” he asked, setting the cup back down.

Meg struggled to focus her eyes. It felt like she was looking at the road in strange tunnel vision, lights flickering in the edges of her vision. “Where are we?”

“Long way away still.” He checked the time and shook his head. “This storm is slowing us up.” 

Meg nodded and then winced again. Dean caught the look and frowned over at her. 

“You okay?”

“No use acting concerned, Deano.” She stretched and twisted in the seat to relieve the pressure. The movement made her feel the aches and stiffness even more and she felt that pressure again. It pushed up into her and she groaned.

“You’re making some funny noises over there,” he pointed out and then looked over her. Meg had parted her jacket and the too tight of shirt to stare at the tiny swell of her own stomach. Dean blinked because he could actually see the movements causing her shirt to lift a little.

His eyes widened.

“Jesus, active little sucker, huh?” He couldn’t help staring at the apparent kicking going on. “Has she been moving before?”

“Not really. For some reason, she woke up.” She arched her back a little again and winced. “We should get moving.”

“I need to get some sleep first,” he said and hesitantly shook his head. “Look, don’t let this get in your head but… can you drive her?”

Meg’s head jerked up and she stared at him.  Dean stared back and waved his hand.

“Don’t start. Cas said I could trust you and I trust him in this so… you drive for a few hours. I need to get to Sam fast and we need to keep moving right?” As if to stall her from saying anything, he opened the door to the rain. Meg watched him walk around the front of the car, confused. Even when he jerked open the passenger door, she still stared. Dean was getting soaked and he frowned down at her. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

The demon eyed him suspiciously but got out into the rain and slowly made her way around to the driver’s side. She stopped when she opened the door to look at the skyline. Something buzzed by overhead and she looked to her left. Smoke was drifting through the air at impossible speeds and she knew a demon’s travelling when she saw it. Even through the night sky, she could see the streams of their smoke moving fast.

“Oh, damn it.”

Getting back in the Impala, she ignored Dean’s instructions he soon pelted her with.

“So go easy on the brake, no, not the accelerator. She likes a smooth hand Don’t clutch the wheel, don’t…”

Meg held up her hand.  “We’re being followed, so I don’t have time for you to start doing your Driving Miss Daisy impression, we clear?”

That distracted him. “Followed, by what?” He looked out the rear window. “Angels?”

“Demons.” She gunned it off the side of the road, sending up a spray of gravel. She overcorrected the Impala with a a sharp jerk, and Dean was thrown against the passenger window. His face made a smacking sound as it hit the glass. Meg tsked and eyed him. “Seatbelt, Dean. Safety first, right?”

He picked himself up slowly and glared at her. “You did that deliberately.”

She grinned. “Of course I did.”

~~~

The loud crack of lightning just outside Chuck’s house made Kevin open his eyes and promptly he rolled off the couch. It took him a moment to reorientate himself, to remember where he was. The power was out and his eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness. The emergency light in the hall finally flicked on and he could finally see the living room. 

Chuck was snoring away on the floor where he’d collapsed at some point. He’d insisted they drink, instead of making anything approaching a coherent plan. Kevin remembered taking one last shot and then falling face first on the couch, while Chuck seemed to have just dropped where he stood.

“Least I’m not alone with the hangover,” Kevin muttered. 

He stared at the supposed Metatron and even through his headache and urge to vomit, he knew that something wasn’t adding up. There was something Chuck wasn’t telling him and it was obvious.

Angels didn’t sleep, for starters. And from Dean had told him, they also were near impossible to get pass-out drunk.

“No wonder Meg didn’t like you much. You have way too many things not adding up,” he muttered. He looked at the walls and crept over Chuck to look at them. Pieces of family memorabilia, records, books, everything lined the walls. Even though he could barely focus, he reached out and stroked his hand down the shelves and his fingers snagged on a journal jutting out. Holding it up to the emergency lights still flickering, he checked the date.

The writing was dated and outlined the scene for John Winchester to say yes. But then it was scribbled out and said that John needed to have two sons instead. That he needed the sons to represent Lucifer and Michael.

_How much did Chuck know?_

Kevin licked his lips and decided on a different course of action, one he’d read about. He shoved the journal back into its place and went back to the couch. He dug through his bag and found the bottles he’d brought with him after stealing them out of the Impala. Dean might kill him for it but he had figured the salt and Holy Oil might come in handy.

Quietly, he moved a few things out of the way and poured a circle of Holy Oil around Chuck’s body. He muttered instructions to himself as he did so. It should hold an angel and maybe he could force him to actually say something. If he could get some answers… maybe he could help Sam live. Help save the world. Find a life again.

Once the circle was complete, he rummaged through the desk and found an old box of matches. One eye on Chuck, he lit a match and dropped it onto the oil circle.

It ignited into brilliant flames instantly and he waited patiently for the other man to wake up.

Chuck’s eyes soon popped open and he nearly leapt to his feet. “What the… what the hell do you think you’re doing?!?” He stared at the flames but there was no fear in his eyes as he looked at the prophet.

“I need some answers,” Kevin said. “And this, not the alcohol, is going to get them for me.”

“You are certifiable, you know that. Setting my house on fire. What the hell did your mother teach you about manners?” 

Chuck walked right to the edge of the flames and then, impossibly, he stepped over them. Kevin could only stare at him, at the way Chuck was clearly freaking out only a little and the way he was unafraid of the flames. Sam had once told him that angels couldn’t cross Holy Fire.

Chuck began to beat at the flames with a cushion. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

Kevin pointed at him.

“Who the hell are you?”

~~

The sudden swerve of the Impala’s frame and the squeal of the brakes made Dean open his eyes and grab onto the dashboard to keep from smacking into it.

“Damn it, Meg, what the hell are you thinking?” He had to use his hands to shove himself back up. It took him a second to focus on the demon and he was ready to tear into her when he noticed that something was wrong. Meg had her head bowed low and her hand was clutching at her stomach. “Hey!”

Her head tilted back and her eyes went black.

“She won’t stop!” she shouted. “It’s in my head and she won’t stop!”

“What? Who?” Dean unbuckled his seat belt and reached over to put the car into park for Meg. She’d just managed to pull them over onto a lit shoulder of the highway. Dean finally realized what she’d said. “Wait, her her?”

“It’s like white noise. Like the time Lucifer attacked.” Her hand pressed hard. She stroked at her stomach and then her other hand lifted to her head, tugging at her hair. Her voice dropped to a pained whisper, “Stop. You aren’t helping!”

Dean could only stare at Meg as she talked to herself, as if she’d forgotten he was even there. Her eyes stared out the window and she dug her nails into her shirt. Eventually her voice dropped to a murmur and she suddenly shoved the driver door open.

“I need some air.”

Dumbfounded, Dean watched her pace in front of the car and then got out himself, slamming the door shut.

“I told you I’d protect you. Just stop!” Meg was muttering. “Nyx, stop. It hurts too much and I need to focus. Stop it.”

Dean mouthed the name, confused, and leaned on the hood of the car. Meg was almost shaking, her face pale and her eyes large and black. Her walk was slow and almost drunken as she turned around.

“You okay?”

“Do I look okay!” she snapped over at him. “I feel like I’ve been suddenly blindsided and it hurts.”

It would have been impossible to explain, Meg knew. She’d driven in silence for hours until suddenly that movement inside of her, which had happened so rarely, began to actually hurt. The pressure in her head had flared to a blinding headache and the white noise had been so loud she’d thought her ears were bleeding. That repeated sound, the soft ping, had rung out until she ached physically from it. 

It had been too much to keep going. 

So now she kept pacing until she managed to get herself under control.

It went slowly and she finally started to breathe normally again. Whatever had been frightening her either had left or was no longer important. Meg began to stroke at her stomach, resisting the urge to hum to get rid of the tension, and instead she began to speak nonsense.

Dean waited patiently, yawning and resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Meg’s muttering.

“You want me to drive now? I should be good for a while,” he said finally, no longer patient to wait as Meg got herself together.

Still grimacing, she tossed him the keys and slunk towards the car.

But before they could change places, the car door he’d left open slammed shut. They both spun and Dean almost jumped back to Meg’s side in recognition.

“Oh, I think you’re going to be staying here,” a decadently sly voice said. A slim woman in black leather and a shirt that proudly proclaimed “Devil’s Own,” was leaning against the Impala. Checking her red nails, she eyed them both and grinned at Dean. It was the sort of cunning grin that meant nothing but pain.

“Hello, boy.”

“You… You were buried in pieces!” He moved in front of Meg but the small demon walked around him. She looked as shocked as Dean felt as she realized who she was looking at. 

“Abaddon.”

The red haired demon grinned in delight. “Sweet, sweet Meg. You remember me?” She tapped her fingers on her pale cheek and then dragged her finger down slowly over a black etched scar that twisted at her throat. “I remember you.”

“You two know each other?” Dean demanded, pointing at Abaddon and then at Meg.

“We go back,” Meg offered. Her expression was neutral as she stared at the older demon.

“I was there when she was remade. When Azazel took her off the rack the first time and made her his.” Abaddon stalked toward them in slow strides and reached out to cup Meg’s chin. “Different body, same demon. Are you still the baddest little student Alastair could have hoped for?”

Her fingers gave her an affectionate pinch on the cheek and Meg didn’t flinch. 

“I never thought I’d see the day you were around a Winchester. Or any hunter. You were created to slaughter them, remember? Like the dutiful daughter you were.” 

Meg didn’t move and didn’t respond as Abaddon stroked her face.

"How are you here?" Dean demanded, hand going to the knife at his belt. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small half-circle of demons appearing, clearly waiting on orders to attack.

"Hell was well overdue for a regime change, Winchester. I was lucky enough to be first on the list." Her eyes stayed riveted on Meg’s. "Though there was a time when Meg might have been the first. Azazel’s protege, as it were; she had the knowledge and the ability.”

She walked around Meg and looked at Dean. “You will pay, by the way, for doing what you did.”

Dean gave her a smarmy grin. “Bring it on.”

"Oh I will. Don’t you worry your pretty boy face about that." Before he could stop her, Abaddon slammed her fist into his jaw and set him sprawling to his knees. Meg didn’t move; she just kept a careful eye on the other demons. They were young ones, fresh off the rack judging by the fervour and stench of the Pit lingering on them. They stared back hungrily.

Abaddon came to stand just behind her, and gently began to run her hand through Meg’s hair. “I had heard what Crowley did to you. One of his loyalists revealed all. I had heard you were dead. But resurrected.”

"Here I am," Meg murmured. She kept her attention split, not liking the demon behind her back or the ones to either side of her.

“And the other rumours? The ones about you changing your loyalties?” Abaddon leaned in over her shoulder so her lips brushed Meg’s ear. “That you are… with child?”

Before her trailing fingers could brush her stomach, Meg moved away. She turned around to face her and watched the Knight carefully. Abaddon’s hand paused in the air, hanging there as if she was still searching. Her head tilted on the side as she realized that there was something inside of Meg besides the demon’s soul. 

She hissed, dropping her hand away. “So it’s true. How far you’ve come! Hanging around hunters. Hanging around an angel if the gossip is true!”

Her eyes fixed on the swell of her belly. “Perhaps more than just hanging around.” Those jewel bright eyes flicked to Dean. “Not yours?”

"That’s gross," Dean muttered and Meg rolled her eyes.

That did nothing to ease the other demon’s anger.

"An angel’s child… so she told the truth." With a sudden snarl, Abaddon lashed out and a nearby tree caught fire from the force of her anger. "Carrying an angel’s bastard, Meg! Disgusting! You let him infect you!"

Meg backed a few steps towards Dean, still not speaking. Abaddon’s eyes flicked black then blue. 

"Crowley accused you of being a whore, centuries ago. Did that become true? Did you willingly create such an abomination?”

Meg carefully stepped back again, knowing how vulnerable they were here.

Abaddon took in a deep breath and her expression turned sweet. “I am willing to forget this, Meg. There are too few of us left. We are family.”

"You were dead," Meg muttered.

“Trapped. Not dead. Don’t you remember? The wars? The blood and the torture? The knowledge that our Father would walk again? Azazel had such plans for you, you know.” She shook her head and sighed. “You were so worthy too. It was why Azazel took you as his daughter, why he was so proud of you and his little family of special demons. Now you’re a stray and we all know what happens to strays who aren’t wanted.”

There was something in her voice that reminded Meg of a teacher disappointed in her student. It was something that made Meg flinch and back off again.

"All I would need is one thing. One simple, little thing, and you can come back to me, to your family. The only ones who can know what you are. Then we can make this right.”

The eerie similarity to Lucifer’s words made Meg’s eyes narrow. But she knew Abaddon. Perhaps better than the other demon knew. The Knight was looking for an advantage and she saw her as one.

She shook her hand so that her angel blade dropped out of its sleeve to her grip.

"No."

Without much hesitation, Abaddon stepped back. “Fine.” 

She snapped her fingers and Dean grabbed his knife just in time as the demons attacked. Meg gave Abaddon a look that screamed disapproval and spun, sliding the angel sword into the gut of a demon. Abaddon leaned back against the car, watching with an expression that seemed more disinterested than enthused.

She made no move to help her soldiers as they struggled against the demon and hunter.

"So what, you two were bros back in the day?" Dean asked as he ducked a blow and slammed Ruby’s knife in the back of a demon. Meg snorted and jammed her blade into the demon’s heart to finish it off.

"Not exactly. Though it wouldn’t be too far off the mark. Back then we were all family, had to stick together during the wars.” She slammed her fist into another face and then continued on almost too casually. "But demons don’t get to be friends. Abaddon was the one that taught me to fight better. Azazel made sure all of us were trained, back in the day."

"Should have figured you would know a demon like that,” Dean muttered. "So she’s not happy to see you right now?”

Meg sliced a throat and looked at him in amusement. “Have you seen a single demon actually happy to see me lately?”

"Enough!" Abaddon’s voice rang out over the clearing and the remaining demons backed away immediately, leaving Dean and Meg panting for breath. Whatever her plan had been, it was being changed and the demons knew better than to disobey. 

Without another thought, Dean kept himself close to the only demon not ready to kill him.

“Have you seen our Father, Meg? He rose again.” Abaddon ran her fingers down her scarred neck and slowly took a few steps towards them. “I imagine he would be very unhappy with you.”

Meg smirked. “He was around.”

Abaddon’s expression closed off and lost its false friendliness. “He came to you.”

Notes of jealousy tinged her words, a different sort than before and Meg decided to press her advantage. “What, he didn’t show himself to you?”

Abaddon’s eyes narrowed.

She raised her hand and squeezed her fingers into a fist. It sent a coursing pain through Dean. Her fingers snapped and he bent over, gasping for breath. He clutched at his chest, his lungs close to collapsing from the pressure.

“Stop,” he whispered and Meg fingered the blade at her side.

“Oh but turnabout is such,” Abaddon twisted her fingers, “fair play.” 

As he went to a knee, she looked at Meg and slashed her hand through the air. Her power snapped and cracked like a whip across the smaller demon’s face, a slash mark appearing when Meg fell to her knees. She wiped at her bloody mouth and slowly picked herself up again, not bothering to heal the mark. Face strangely impassive, Abaddon raised her hand again. This time she began to focus on squeezing on the other demon’s nerve endings, ripping into the demonic soul. Old power began to ooze out of her, crackling in the air and making it feel hot and thick with pressure.

But Meg only stared back and at her side her own fingers went into a fist. The older demon recoiled, grasping her stomach and coughing up blood.

Laughing, she spat out another mouthful. “You’re stronger than last time, gorgeous.”

“Been a lifetime since we last saw each other and I learned a lot of tricks,” Meg muttered. She left Dean’s side and stood before Abaddon. “If you want a decent fight for once, I can give you one.”

“You? A simple soldier challenging a Knight? That is like a seraph challenging an Archangel.” She laughed almost hysterically until she realized that the demon was serious. “You always had a sense of humour, Meg.”

Abaddon raised her hand but the sudden tittering of the demons distracted both her and Meg. Lightning was suddenly cracking through the sky, creating brilliant white flashes that illuminated the lonely strip of highway. Behind Meg, Dean palmed the knife and slowly forced himself to stand upright again. Noticing that he was recovering, she slipped back beside him.

A young demon came up to Abaddon’s side as she glared at the sky. “It might be an angel. We all heard the stories.”

The Impala suddenly turned itself on and the headlights began to flicker as the engine rumbled. They all looked at the car and then at each other, all of them confused. The nearby light posts began to flick off, one by one, in a slow rhythm before the plastic casings burst from the force of the electricity flowing through them. Thunder overhead rumbled so loud that the ground shook from it and lightning began to strike again as a storm began to erupt in the air.

Abaddon shook her head, eyes changing to black. “No. That is something much much worse.”

There was another flash of light and Dean and Meg had to shield their eyes at the brilliance. The storm howled around them, bringing a torrent of rain that soaked them all to the bone while the lightning struck the ground just behind Meg and Dean. Two of the demons that had been creeping up on them howled in agony and the others quickly retreated behind Abaddon.

Dean whirled though Meg stayed staring at the demons.

“Cas?!?”

Without a word, Castiel dropped the demons to the dirt and coursed his power deeper into them as they were burned from their meatsuits. The angel stood up, shaking his glowing hands until the power faded a little. His head lifted and he looked at Dean, giving him a brief nod for a greeting. Dean allowed himself a relieved smile. 

The demons hissed and backed off a few more steps though Abaddon didn’t move. Castiel walked past Dean and as he passed Meg he glanced at her. Her own head tilted to the side as she looked up at him. Their eyes met and then he looked away again, standing just before Meg and Dean.

“Leave.”

The demon smirked. “Oh, I don’t think so. A simple angel threatening a Knight? That’s rich. I’ve eaten your kind for breakfast.”

She lifted a hand but nothing came out. It was if something stalled. The air pulsed around them but there was no power behind the attempt. Castiel gave her a brief smile that didn’t make him seem any less frightening.

“Yes, it is.”

Frustrated, she lowered her hand and he turned away from her. The insult was clear and she gestured at her demons to back off further. Castiel still ignored her and reached out to touch Dean, healing his damaged lungs with a flicker. Dean closed his eyes in relief as his breathing went back to normal and then Castiel glanced at Meg.

“Are you hurt?” 

“Not really. More big things to worry about, Castiel,” she muttered, eyes never leaving the demons though he felt her sway just a little into him. Still blocked from them, his hand brushed her wrist as he turned. 

The demon Knight switched tactics immediately.

“So,” Abaddon murmured, eyeing him up and down. “You’re the angel who corrupted our sweet Meg.” Her red lips snarled. “How disgusting.”

Castiel made sure to keep himself between the two female demons. “Who are you?”

“Yes, sweet Meg, who am I? Inform angel-face here.”

Behind him, Meg’s voice was low but clear. “Abaddon. A Knight of Hell.”

“One we dismembered because she was damn hard to kill,” Dean put in.

“Didn’t do a good enough job though. I’ve been able to… what is that modern term… climb the corporate ladder.” Her eyes went to Meg again. “You are now looking at your Queen, Meg. I suggest bowing now and getting it over with.”

Meg and Dean both stepped up to either side of Castiel. “But…” Dean shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

“I have masters more loving than an angel’s god.”

“Lucifer,” Dean whispered. 

“Come back to us, Meg,” Abaddon was focussed on Meg. “I meant what I said. All can be forgiven if you come back to us now.”

Meg knew exactly what would happen to her if she crossed the line. Abaddon would follow her orders, a Knight always did. If Lucifer had told her to eliminate all threats then she would. She’d be ripped apart, Nyx destroyed, her own soul strapped to the rack for all of eternity for her betrayal.

So instead, she went for snarky. “I don’t do the kneeling thing so well.”

“Oh? Is she telling the truth, Castiel? How is she at kneeling before you?” Abaddon’s grin was sly but there was no reaction from the angel. Her grin turned into a scowl when he didn’t rise to the bait. “You… reek of power. Of Grace, but you are no Archangel that I remember. There were only the four that fought. What are you?”

He ignored the attempt and kept his expression cold. “Leave. Now.”

“Oh, not without my precious, sweet Meg. Do you know how hard it is to find one of the old ones left? She is one of the only ones left now. The only one born to that sort of power, who remembers what it is to crawl in the Pit and fight to become what we are.”

“You heard Cas. Get lost. She stays.” It was Dean who spoke and Meg eyed him .

“You say it like she would choose your side. She is a demon. There is only one side for her.”

The angel in front of her didn’t look away. “She made her choice. Back off, before I end you.”

Abaddon’s crimson red lips were still twisted in a smirk. “Oh, poor little seraph, why would she ever choose you?” 

“Because I never ordered her to choose.”

Without thinking, Meg’s fingers brushed Castiel’s hand. The gesture was small but the new Queen of Hell noticed. As she realized the meaning behind it, her eyes widened and then snapped to Meg’s face.

“Oh, you traitorous little bitch.”

She lashed out but this time Castiel’s power blocked hers. The wave of darkness crashed against the light and exploded in an arc, sending her backwards as if struck physically. Only his hold on Meg’s hand and Dean standing just behind him blocked them from being thrown.

The demon wiped at her bloody nose and stared at him. “You… you’re just a seraph! A soldier!”

In reply, he raised his hand and a small ball of white light began to appear. Abaddon recognized it instantly and snapped her fingers, retreating back a few steps. Her eyes went to Dean next.

“I owe you, pretty boy. Don’t forget that.”

Before Castiel could follow through on the unspoken threat, Abaddon and her demons teleported off the highway. Castiel waited a few moments to be sure, his power searching them out but they were gone. 

“We’re safe for now,” he said aloud. Castiel took in a deep breath and felt the slim fingers that had been holding his letting go. He felt the distance between him and Meg like a physical thing as she went to check the dead demons’ bodies. 

Dean swore under his breath and rubbed at his jaw.

“Cas, was I happy to see you,” he said, shaking his head. Castiel looked at him curiously. “What took you so long?”

“I was in New Hampshire. The blast from Michael threw me there.” He adjusted his coat against the rain still pounding down on them. “It took me a while to find you though. I apologize.”

“Neither of us called you though. We’d thought it would be safer if we tried to summon you back at the bunker.” Dean looked him over, wiping rain out of his eyes. “How did you find us?”

Castiel’s eyes slowly went to Meg, lingering on her as she stood back up. Dusting off her hands, she pocketed the money and wards the demons had been carrying. Only the slight tilt to her head showed that she knew he was watching her.

But before he could answer Dean, the drone of oncoming traffic in the distance made the hunter turn and swear. 

Castiel shook his head. “Go. I’ll clean up this mess.”

“There’s a motel ten miles up. We’ll meet you there,” Dean said and  waved at Meg. “Come on.”

Eager to get out the rain, they both walked around Castiel but he caught Meg’s hand in his as she passed. The demon looked up at him, clearly seeing something under his vessel’s face, and her lips parted as if to say something. But then her mouth snapped shut and she looked away. Reluctantly he let her go, fingers dragging over her ice cold skin and dropping back to his side. 

“Go.”

As he watched the Impala peel off the gravel and onto the highway, Castiel sighed. They were safe for now. He doubted that this Abaddon would follow them if she still felt his presence. As the headlights of a truck began to light up the highway, he turned back to the bodies. Snapping his fingers, he obliterated them and then decided to take his time following Dean and Meg.

He wanted to be sure that no demons were following them.

~~

The lightning storm hadn’t touched the city park several miles up the road but Naomi felt its effects with every fibre of her Grace. It prickled her vessel’s skin, brought with it flashes of awareness that something strong was nearby, and even her own eyes flickered with answering flashes. She hadn’t felt that sort of power in years and it was affecting her own.

But then just as quickly as it had come, that power was gone and the air suddenly felt empty. Standing under the trees, she looked up at the sky and felt such loneliness.

Heaven was empty now with only the souls there, drifting in a happiness the angels had helped create. Unprotected and unaware of what that could mean.

They were all gone. All of them. Except for her and for the remnants of the Garrison, Watchers, and Cherubs that she’d kept stationed on Earth. They all had their orders and only God himself could move them.

Or so she kept reminding herself. It was hard to resist when that incredible tug continued to pull at her. It sung and twisted, seducing her with promises. She felt it at the back of her mind and she swayed on her feet. Promises of peace and quiet, of no longer being tied to a duty few of them could even remember now. It was a temptation and she forced herself to stand still.

She needed to be strong for the remaining of her family.

There was a tiny clap of lightning, a flutter of feathers, and twenty angels stood before her. They all nodded to her in unison and she sighed. “Brothers, sisters. I’m so glad you are here.” 

“We all felt the others disappear,” one of the Garrison whispered, voice tight with anger and fear. “We can feel the tug!”

“So can I but we cannot forget our purpose. It anchors us here. Where the others have gone…”

"Has she taken it? Has she succeeded?" another angel, Danel, demanded and Naomi nodded.

"She has. The others have gone to the Lethe. I cannot sense them anywhere.”

Inias, the only one who had been involved in this so long to not panic, sighed and looked her in the eye. “What are our orders?”

Before she could answer, one of the Grigori suddenly looked up at the sky. Her eyes went white and she nearly whimpered. “I can hear it. The call.”

“Elanel, no! Stand down!”

But before Naomi’s orders could sink in, Elanel shot up through the sky, for one moment kept in shadow before then erupting into celestial light. The force of her own power scorched the grass that had been under her feet and the other angels backed away to watch her. The vessel was burnt beyond recognition as she consumed herself and Naomi could only stare as the wings that had appeared in the clouds disappeared in a flash of light.

She hadn’t been able to resist the call and Naomi felt her own strength wavering. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself down and then her face went stony. Her bright eyes reopened, unshed tears causing them to glimmer.

Inias’ brown eyes were still on her, as if his sister’s disappearance had not even registered.

Death had told her eight simple words and she wondered if those had been God’s direct instructions. A way of reminding them what they should be doing. It wouldn’t be the first time their purpose was revealed through someone else.

It made her remember Castiel.

“I —” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Stay, stay put, stay safe, stay together. Await further instruction.”

"Where is safe?" another angel asked.

She waved her hand. “We are here to guard this world. We are not about to abandon our posts now. I will look for a way.” In her mind, she knew that she would have to find Castiel, find the angel tablet. “Use your best judgment. And pray, as I will pray. God will know what has happened to us, his children. If we pray, perhaps we can find an answer.”

~~

Kevin stared at Chuck as the older man sleepily went to the kitchen, intent on making his coffee. He’d beaten the flames down, yelled at the prophet, and then refused to answer his questions. Kevin had ignored his ranting about fire being dangerous in a room full of books, chalking it up to more avoidance. Now it looked like he was still trying to avoid answering his questions.

“Look, you can’t put me off forever.” He turned away and went to grab his notebook from the table.

“I don’t have a clue about what you’re talking about,” Chuck said over his shoulder.

“I think you’re a liar.”

Chuck stiffened up but Kevin didn’t see the way his hand went under the sink.

“Something isn’t adding up. I mean, if you’re Metatron then why masquerade as a prophet? Why take the risk of being found?” Kevin recited the reasons he’d jotted down. “Other angels could sense you, right? At least the archangel watching over you could. I’m not trying to be critical, but it really seems like you’re hiding-”

There was a loud thump and something rubbery bounced off the back of his head. Yelping, he turned and faced Chuck.

“Did you… did you just hit me with a plunger?” He looked at the unlikely weapon and Chuck looked at it as well. He gave a shrug, sheepish grin on his face.

“Yeah.” He fixed his grip. “Just hold still okay?”

He went to do it again and Kevin narrowly dodged. “Are you insane?”

“Insanity is a point of view. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result might be a sign of it.” The dry voice from behind Chuck made them both look over to see Death sitting at the table. “So, yes. He is.”

“You!” Chuck pointed the plunger at him. “This is because of you!”

“Me?” Death pointed at himself. “I am just a casual observer with stock options. You, brother, have believed your own publicity.”

“Brother?” Kevin looked between them. “Wait. How can…”

Chuck winced, ready for it.

“Who the hell are you?!?” Kevin shouted at him.

“Kevin, we need to talk. Minus the plunger, Chuck.” Death leaned back. “Though first, take a bath. You’ve got a very strong odour. No wonder why she chooses not to reappear to you right now. And don’t run, it won’t do you much good at this point. I’ll be able to find you anyway.”

The smaller man glared at him but left obediently. Kevin gaped at Death.

“Wait, how is he your brother?”

“It is a loose definition; rather, series of cosmic events that have drawn us together. The term brother is not in the human term but from our long association.” Death set his bag on the table and casually went to the cupboards. “I wonder if he has anything edible. There is going to be a tedious explanation when he returns.” 

~~~

They’d come to the rundown motel, the kind that rented by the hour and that had sheets that probably needed a black light run over them. There was nothing but a few emergency lights working inside the room. The rest of the crappy building looked ready to collapse at the gusts of wind. The manager had been too drunk to care about that or about them, which was, as Meg had pointed out, was not a bad thing. 

Dean had found that his cell phone was dead and it forced him to use the pay-phone outside. He waited patiently as the phone rang and rang. Staring out at the storm just outside the booth, he wondered if the demons could have followed them here.

“Come on, Sammy, pick up.” He began to thud his hand on the top of the phone. But when it went to voicemail again, he sighed. “Damn.”

The rain was falling so hard that he could barely see the neon side overhead. Rather than go back out in it, he sighed and leaned back against the glass wall. He needed time away from Meg and likely Castiel. He needed to try to figure out something if Sam wasn’t picking up.

~~

Meg tried for the last time to get the heater working. Dean had been adamant that they weren’t staying, and had only paid for an hour, but she didn’t care. She needed something to keep her mind busy and abusing the antique heater was the way to go without actually killing someone.

Though with her luck she’d set it on fire and then the whole building would be on fire. She shrugged. Likely would be the best thing to happen to the place. Going out and killing someone might attract the wrong attention anyway.

Still dripping wet and shaking, Meg sniffed and banged it again.

Nothing.

“Can’t believe I miss the handy moose,” she muttered, pushing her wet hair over her shoulder. Her body ached from the blows Abaddon had thrown at her and there was little doubt she’d be sore for hours. 

“You’re still wet.” Just behind her, Castiel’s voice was low and gravelly and she looked up to see his reflection in the window. She didn’t jump this time, just sighed and closed her eyes.

“Crap hole like this lacks the basics, Clarence.” She turned a little and looked over her shoulder at him. Castiel dragged his eyes away from her soaked shirt and met her gaze as she turned to face him. 

Reaching up, he touched the still healing mark on her cheek. Meg watched him check her over before he sighed and brushed his thumb against the bruise.

“I’m sorry. I tried to…”

Before he could finish she grabbed his soaked shirt, pulled him close and kissed him. He made a sound, startled by her cold lips and the arms suddenly tight around his shoulders. Castiel felt her fingers tugging his hair, tiny body fitting against his as she almost burrowed under his coat with him. He lost the shock and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up hard into him. Moaning, she leaned against him and he kissed her back, almost shaking from the force of it.

“Meg,” he murmured when the kiss ended. He smoothed his hands down her back and then he was kissing her again, tasting darkness and life all at once. She pushed a little on his chest to break the kiss. Her delight at finding him again was clear and he shuddered at the way her teeth nipped at his lower lip when she moved back a bit. Without thinking, he closed the coat around her, trying to keep her close, and she kept her hands pressed between them.

“Where were you?” she demanded, fingers flexing on his chest. The wet cold of her body soaked his shirt but he ignored it. 

“I… I blacked out. I don’t really remember much.”

“I thought you were dead, for a moment,” she admitted and he lowered his head. His hands lifted to grasp her shoulders, unable to resist touching her as he held her, because this felt alive. Here this felt real and it grounded him. Meg’s smirk and flashing eyes were familiar, the smoky drawl of her voice the same as before. She ran her eyes over him. 

“Then I came back to reality because you are one hard thing to kill.”

“I am. More now I guess.”

Meg’s eyes were suspicious.“What do you mean?”

“I…” He shook his head because it was clear she’d guess if he was lying. “Something happened to me. Can’t you tell?”

“I can feel it.” She traced her palm over his chest and then pushed against his solar plexus. “Right in here. You feel charged up. Plus you’re incredibly warm.”

“Are you saying I’m hot?” he asked and his eyes glimmered a little. Meg eyed him and then rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“Why do you get jokes like that but can’t understand why I call you Clarence?” She shook her head. “Ok. What happened?”

He looked down at her hand. “We need to wait for Dean, so I can explain.”

“Castiel,” she warned and then winced as something turned inside of her. He watched her, openly concerned, and she sucked in a deep breath. 

“How did you find us?” she asked instead. She backed away a little and he caught her wrist in his hand to hold her still. Reaching between them, he brushed his palm over her stomach.

“I looked for her instead.”

Meg frowned. “Since when could you do that?”

“Since now.” His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over the bruise. Her skin prickled under the touch as the bruise faded away. Meg shuddered and took a step back, really looking at him this time. 

“Abaddon was right, you’re… radiating with something different, Cas. What did you do?” She touched him again and felt her own skin prickle as she felt the Grace humming through him. Inside of her, that tiny spark of life felt like it was almost bouncing happily at being so close to him. She put her other hand on her stomach to try to stop it. “You’re still you though.”

“Yes.”

The door opened and she lowered her hand away from his chest as if the contact suddenly burned her. Castiel reluctantly looked away from her to face Dean, just as wet and miserable looking as Meg. The hunter sniffed and eyed them.

“I’m not interrupting, am I? Just a hunter needing to get in from the rain.”

Castiel sighed, relieved to see him back to normal, and watched him stretch out on the bed. Meg leaned back against the wall and he caught her stroking her cheek where he had touched. When she caught him looking, she dropped her hand and turned her head away.

“So, Cas.” Dean toed off his boots. “Time to play the guessing game. What the hell happened? You fought Michael and apparently won.”

“Yes, I suppose you could see it that way.” He moved past Meg and her head lifted to watch him.

Dean leaned against the headboard. “And you’ve been cranked up  apparently.” When he caught Castiel’s confused look, he sighed. “Upgraded? I can tell. I’ve known you long enough.”

“Something like that.” He lifted a hand as if to study the change done to his Grace under his vessel. “I am far more powerful than I was before as an angel. But its come at a cost. The angels are gone and Michael was killed.”

Dean blinked. “Gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know exactly. But I felt it, I saw it. You did too, I think.”

“The lights in the sky; those were angels falling?”

“Falling but they didn’t fall here. They fell somewhere else.” Castiel’s voice broke a little. “I don’t know if any of them are remaining here. I might be the last of my kind still in this world.”

Meg tilted her head on the side. “There was a spell on that blade Lucifer carried.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Bet he didn’t see that coming, you killing Michael,” Dean said. He shook his head. “Though I thought he was going to help us.”

“Hell of a way to try, threatening us,” Meg pointed out and the hunter nodded though his eyes were on Castiel. Meg looked as well and saw how cagey the angel looked. “So something you did sent the angels somewhere other than Heaven. So, was that you going ‘God’ again, or…?”

He blinked. “Well, not exactly.”

“Not gonna lie, Cas, you being supercharged seems a bit too familiar,” Dean interrupted. “Well?”

“The spell on the blade was part of a trial, I think. Or it may have been the final trial. I can’t read the tablet but it would make sense. I just didn’t realize it until it was too late that we were being pushed to do this. It was - I believe that I committed the ultimate act of treachery amongst my kind.” Castiel loosened his collar a little.

“Worse than genocide?” Meg prompted, remembering the stories of all those dead angels. Stories he’d told her, that Dean had mentioned.

He paused and nodded. “Some treacheries are worse. I took in Michael’s Grace. I stole it and it is becoming a part of me.”

Meg and Dean both stared in shock.

“So this is making you what? You’re a — an archangel?” Dean waved his hand. “That’s what the lightning storm was about? All that power? Sending Abaddon running with her forked tail between her legs? Jesus, when you upgrade you upgrade.”

“That’s not precisely how it works. Only God can create Archangels but in a matter of speaking, yes. It has made me the equal to them. His Grace is twined with mine now and it has changed the power I feel. But I don’t know exactly how to use it. It isn’t natural to me.” He flexed his fingers as if to try.

There was something lost in his expression when nothing happened.

“Look, let’s just get a bit happy that at least we got something to use on the demons if we have to.” Dean rolled off the bed and sorted through the duffel bag he’d brought in. “We’ll need you close if Abaddon is on our tails but I need to get to Sam. Something’s wrong. So get ready to go, got it?”

He grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Castiel waited until the door was closed before he looked at Meg. The demon’s eyes were on the floor, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

“Say something,” he said when the silence was too much.

“Mm?” She tilted her head on the side. There was still an absentminded look on her face. He approached her warily, trying to look like he wasn’t a threat. “I’m still processing.”

“I can protect you now. That’s all I ever wanted. It’s why I did what I did.” He stood just inches away but aware of the distance between them. “It’s a hollow victory nonetheless.”

Meg nodded. “He would have killed you.”

“We don’t know that.”

"I’m a demon, feathers. It is kill or be killed to me when it comes to stuff like that." She shifted uncomfortably. “Cas. Between you and Michael with that sort of power, I’d take you any day.”

He stared at her and she looked away. 

The bathroom door opened and Dean came out, dressed in dry clothing. 

“Okay, kids, let’s get going. Who rides shotgun? Cas?”

The angel nodded. “Sounds right.”

Meg followed them out, still too quiet for his liking, and he wondered if the change had bothered her more than she was letting on.

~~~

Sam rolled over slowly, stretching out in the narrow bed and sighing. The first real, untroubled sleep he’d had in months. His dreams had been calmer, the fire running through his blood suddenly nothing but soothing warmth. His head no longer felt heavy and his body didn’t ache as badly.

He felt normal.

The energy that revved through him felt incredible and he grinned, rolling to his feet and stuffing his feet in a pair of old sneakers. He felt, for the first time in a while, like he had energy to burn. The entire episode felt hazy in his head but he remembered just enough.

Lucifer. What would the Devil want from him except possession?

He nearly stopped himself from going down that train of thought.

No, that had been real.

But whoever had healed him hadn’t been Lucifer. They had kept Lucifer from possessing him. Instead, they’d pulled him to the Lethe and eased the power that had been destroying him. He’d glimpsed the Lethe in their arms. He’d felt everything surrounding him, healing him, and it threw everything into perspective.

Something he needed to think about.

He dressed quickly and decided to go for a run to clear his head. He didn’t bother to check his blinking phone or the alarm system. He just ran out the door and lost himself in the sheer joy of being able to feel whole again.

~~

When Chuck smelled better and looked like he hadn’t just rolled out of bed, Death finally called Kevin back in the kitchen. The entity sat sipping at a cup of tea, sedate and unfazed by Chuck’s glaring. The sight of the pair of them made Kevin nervous as he took a seat across the table. Death dug into his black bag and set a paper bag on the table. The smell of a cheeseburger made Chuck perk up and reach for it but Death slapped his knuckles.

“Not for you.” He pushed the bag to Kevin. “Eat.”

“I’m good.”

“Very well. Then we can talk.” Death sat back. “Well, what did you learn, Kevin Tran?”

The prophet pointed at Chuck. “You. You’re not an angel, you’re not a prophet… but you’ve known everything that was going to happen.”

“Most of it anyway,” Chuck muttered, unhappily looking at the table.

“So you’re — you’re God, like the father of angels God?” Kevin blurted out and Death smiled at Chuck, the sort of triumphant look that made Chuck glower back.

“Sort of? It’s not exactly what I am.” He shifted in his seat.

“How ‘sort of’?” Kevin looked at Chuck. “There is no ‘sort of’ is there?”

“Well, the Pagan Gods once believed that there was…”

“The sort of is that he’s a coward. Or a drunk. Or both.” Death drummed his fingers on the table.

Chuck banged his hand on the table and pointed at Death. “Enough! I am not a coward! I am just… not as interested as I once was. I was after peace and this shit storm followed me.”

Death smirked. “Because once again, you forgo responsibility.”

“Not all of us just have to touch something and have their job be over.”

Kevin pointed between the two of them. “So you two are brothers.”

“In a matter of speaking, as I said before.”

“So this Sheol is your uh, ‘sexy’ sister,” he finished. Death gave Chuck a look as he stammered.

“She’s… she’s…”

“And you’re literally toying with all life on Earth over - what exactly?” Kevin gave a nervous laugh. “Because you have a family feud?” 

“To save the world!”

“The two of them take a quite a different view of what that means.” Death sat back. “Sheol believes she is doing you all a favour. She is not ignoring you though our sweet brother has turned his back on his responsibility. However, her idea of a favour isn’t exactly freedom either; creatures our age tend to forget the difference.”

“If I had forgotten my responsibility, the Apocalypse would have happened years ago. I interfered then,” Chuck snarled, finally getting angry. “What happened between Sheol and I had… has little to do with any of this.”

“Then why the anger, Chuck? Someone else playing in your sandbox?”

Chuck scoffed and looked at Kevin. “You know you have to keep a lid on this, right?”

“If you’re God, just erase my memory.”

“It’s not that simple on a prophet, especially one like you.” Chuck sat back. “And I don’t remember how precisely. And because — because, I - I need to outsource my power. I need Chaos. Sheol knows me too well. I need people, like you, on my side that — that she doesn’t know, can’t anticipate.”

Kevin swallowed. “… I need a drink.”

Chuck nodded. “Me too.” He eyed Death. “You?”

Death thought it over. “One won’t kill me.”

~~~

As the hours dragged by, Meg began to shift around in the backseat. Giving up on getting comfy, she balled up her jacket and pushed it against the small of her back. Since Castiel had rejoined them, she’d felt like she was being repeatedly pummelled in the stomach.

Dean eyed her in the rearview. “Kid swimming?”

Castiel, who’d been stuck in a strange meditation, opened his eyes and gave him a quizzical look. Dean shrugged and jerked his head back at the demon. “The kid was kicking up a storm earlier.”

Castiel turned slowly in his seat to look at Meg. “Is she all right?”

“Just fine,” she muttered, grinding her teeth as she received another kick. She pushed her hand on her stomach and tried to project calm but she knew her own anger and frustration earlier wasn’t helping. Castiel reached over the seat and leaned close towards her. He pressed his hand flat on hers so that they both touched her stomach. He felt that familiar jolt of power and the slow ease of fear.

Dean watched in the rearview when he could, confused and not sure if he wanted to ask what was going on.

Castiel’s thumb drew a circle on the back of Meg’s hand. “It’s okay. We’re both here,” he muttered out loud. He tapped his fingers on her stomach and slowly the power he could feel there slowly eased. Meg sighed and closed her eyes. He was still so close that she could feel his warmth and he stroked the back of her hand thoughtfully until her eyes opened. Something connected between them, held until Meg relaxed under his touch. When he removed his hand, he had to shake it a little to relieve the sensation.

He sat back in his seat and glanced over at Dean.

“Nyx was just concerned,” he informed him.

“Wait, who?”

“Nyx.”

“You named her already.” Dean shook his head. “And a weird name. But could be worse, I guess. Could be calling her something Enochian that none of us can pronounce without sounding like we’re sneezing.”

Meg gave the back of his head a mocking grin. “I thought about calling her Satan.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at her. “You wouldn’t.”

She grinned at him next. “Guess we’ll never know now, huh?

“Right. So have you guys even though about the next few months? When that kid gets born?” Dean asked. Their silence made him grumble even more. He glanced at Castiel and the angel shrugged, looking out the window. “Great, so you pop that abomination out and Sam and I have to deal with the consequences?” 

Dean eyed Meg in the rearview but beside him Castiel suddenly smiled.

Meg rolled her eyes and sighed. “Aren’t you a ball of optimism?”

"That thing is likely gonna be the death of me," Dean continued, and Castiel tilted his head, looking at back at Meg again. Her hand was on her stomach and her eyes were fixed on the swell of it. She shook her head finally.

“You gotta be kidding me.” When her head lifted, she stared back as his eyes roamed over her. Together, they both looked incredulously at Dean.

"What?" Dean noticed them both staring and it made him nervous. “Why are you looking at me?"

Castiel’s grin widened a little. “She likes you.”

"What? Who?” Dean almost swerved the Impala, glancing at Meg. “Don’t say Meg because I won’t believe that.” 

She was frowning down at her stomach as if to scold Nyx.

"The baby. For some reason… she’s fond of you, Dean," Castiel explained patiently. “You and Sam."

Dean slowly blushed red, stammering a little. “Kid isn’t even born yet.”

"Yeah, so she hasn’t learned how to have taste," Meg muttered.

“You can’t tell when a unborn kid likes someone, Cas. It just doesn’t happen.” He nervously looked over his shoulder at Meg. “Does it?”

Castiel shrugged. “Trust me, it is only recently we’ve felt anything so coherent from her.”

“So your special kid just got a world more special.”

“I’m not sure if that is the way to look at it.”

Dean snorted as he turned up the hidden drive to the bunker. Catching sight of something in his headlights, he frowned and leaned out.

“What the… is that - is that Sam?” He barely remembered to put the Impala in park before he sprang out of the car. Meg and Castiel slowly got out, seeing the jogger coming down from the path. Knowing better than to interfere, Castiel stayed beside the demon, one hand brushing her back as he guided her to the bunker. 

Dean half-jogged, half-walked down the path just as Sam came running up.  Coated in sweat and with his eyes bright, he looked impossibly healthy in the light of the Impala. 

“Hey.”

“Yeah hey and what the hell are you doing? It’s 6 a.m. in the morning,” Dean demanded. “You’re supposed to be in bed sick!”

“Well, I got better!” Sam said, waving his hand through the air.

“Magically?” Dean grabbed him by his hoodie. “What the hell? I kept calling you and…”

“I was in the Lethe,” he blurted out and his brother could only stare.

“You were where?”

“The Lethe.” Sam looked at the sky. “It was beautiful.”

Dean snapped his fingers in front of him. “Hey! Focus!”

"When the angels started falling whatever I was there for, she just, she let me go."

"Wait you know about the angels falling. And Lethe let you go? Just like that? Who?” Dean’s mind was trying to sort this out. From Sam’s obvious euphoria to his health, none of it added up. He’d expected to come back and find Sam bed-ridden and exhausted. Not out for a morning run.

"Just like that." Sam flexed his arms a little and then led Dean back to the Impala. “I’ve not felt this healthy in so long. She healed me!”

“Who?”

“Sheol, I think. It is all a big blur.”

“Someone who is looking to end the world healed you. You don’t think that might be a problem?” Dean demanded as he turned off the Impala and locked its doors.

“I think maybe we weren’t looking at this right. Where’s Meg and Cas?” Sam waited for him at the door to the bunker.

“Cas is different,” Dean said as he pulled himself out of the car again. “Just to warn you. We had a run in with…”

He stopped himself. “Look, I need food. And the preggers demon in there is likely to stop bitching if we don’t find her something too, so let’s just let this lie for a minute. Then I’m gonna yell at you. We clear?”

“Fine by me.”

~~~

“So that’s your master plan? Free Will?” Kevin tossed back another shot of whiskey. The reality of who he was drinking with had already passed.

“Well, that and I provided you all with a way of keeping Sam from doing what he wants to do.”

“What’s that?” Kevin asked.

Chuck rolled his eyes. “It is right in front of you. You just have to remember that Sam is human and is ruled by human emotion.”

“Right.”

“Free Will is the best choice. You guys are great at creating your own paths. That’s actually the best weapon.”

“So why don’t you and Sheol have a cosmic smack down instead of getting humans involved?”

“Well because…”

“She’d likely defeat him.” Death put in and Chuck glared at him. “But most of the reason is that this reality would not survive such a thing. It is why we only influence. We do not directly involve ourselves unless we need to.”

“You guys have rules.”

“Yes. Without balance and rules, all just goes to Chaos.” Death checked the clock on the wall. “And speaking of which, it is time for you to go home, Kevin.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you need to be where it is safe. When Sheol finally comes here again, this will actually not be the safest place. I will take you back.”

Before Kevin could argue, Death grabbed his arm and they blipped out. Chuck blinked at his now empty study and then glanced at his laptop, which he’d left alone for several days now. He took another drink and made to stand.

The sudden influx of high-pitched voices in his head, an insistent hum, suddenly tore through his skull and he moaned, sitting back down on his chair. The voices were begging, pleading with him for answers and he couldn’t separate them all; they jumbled together into one loud roar. He tried to focus on a spot on the floor but slowly one prayer penetrated the drone.

_Michael was dead._

He’d ignored that feeling for hours now, knowing what could have happened, but it suddenly slammed home inside of him.

 _Michael had been one of the first_.

That awareness of his own actions he’d been ignoring slowly crept up and he cried out, digging his nails into his palms. He couldn’t even try to erase that strange grief.

“I’m sorry.” He tilted his head down and put his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you all but it had to happen!”

~~~

Castiel stopped mid-stride down the iron catwalk. He’d been headed to the common room where Meg had been earlier. She had stayed too quiet for his liking, not even bothering to toss an insult at Sam or Dean. But the voice whispering an apology in his head distracted him.

That niggling feeling that someone was yelling at him in some way was there and he glanced behind himself. Nothing but empty hallway.

Still, it had felt like someone was calling to him. The Grace he was still learning to control snarled around him and burst an overhead light. The urge to get out before he lost control came flaring up and he knew he had to move fast.

Castiel apparated out to the front of the bunker and then slowly took a walk to a nearby park. It gave him the time to calm down just enough that he no longer felt like he might explode on a whim. He looked up at the sky and murmured in Enochian. The park lights flared on and he snapped his fingers so that a bench appeared.

The power inside him rebelled a little at being so controlled. Ignoring it, he sat on the bench and bowed his head.

“Why? Why did you do this?” he demanded. He looked down at his hands and imagined he could see blood on them. Not just Michael’s but the blood of so many he had killed in just a few short years.

“I’ve caused so much pain, so much suffering. Suffering and pain to my own kind. Why? Why did you resurrect me? Why allow me this power?” _I still don’t deserve any of this,_ he thought.

“Why do you never answer me? Or any of us? Where are you? This isn’t fair!”

He shouted the last words, so that the nearby car horns went off and the electricity flickered. But when the echo of those words faded, he lowered his head slowly.

“Why? Why now? What can this do but cause more pain to those I love?”

_And where was his family?_

Knowing that now more than ever he needed to focus and devote himself to something, he took himself back to the bunker to the Winchesters and Meg.

~~

Meg felt him come back into the bunker and waited until he walked past the room she’d hidden herself in. After only an hour inside the bunker she was restless and quickly growing desperate to get away. She heard Castiel pause just outside the room and then move on in slow, steady strides. When the angel disappeared around the corner, she quickly slipped out the bunker door.

She needed to get out.

~~

Castiel felt her moving but when he went to call out to her, her presence was already gone.

He turned to try to follow her.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam’s voice jolted him and he looked around to see the two Winchesters coming up. “Where’s your evil half?”

He actually laughed and Dean gave his brother a look though Castiel’s expression didn’t change. 

“I don’t know. You’re looking healthy. And… giddy. You should be neither.” Castiel leaned back against the wall and looked at Dean. They’d already discussed Sam’s apparent recovery and he didn’t like it. Dean had tried to play it off as a good thing but Castiel saw it was something more ominous. “Did you tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“Cas, not now.”

“Yes, now. Because this is of import.”

Sam looked between the two. “What is?”

“Sam, it is just…”

“Lucifer has been set free. And Michael though he has since been killed,” Castiel jumped in, earning a deadly glare from Dean. Sam gave a chortling laugh.

“So you guys know too, huh?”

“Look Sam, I- wait you knew?” Dean demanded.

“He was with Sheol, yeah. I didn’t mention that?”

“You left that little detail out!”

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t like the thought of this.”

“Look, Sam, I’m sorry, I really am, okay, but what you need to understand is-” Dean began, trying to apologize in advance but Sam only shook his head.

“I get it Dean, I do. I’m not angry.” He patted him on the shoulder and Dean stared.

“Not angry?” He waved his hand. “Dude, you should be furious!”

Sam smiled. “You were just trying to protect me. I’d do the same for you.”

“Yeah, but - I mean, yeah,” Dean agreed. “But Sam, come on. Lucifer!”

“I love you Dean, you’re my brother, there’s nothing to forgive.” Still in a state of utter euphoria, Sam walked away from them.

“Wait, what?” Dean called after him but Sam entered his room and closed the door.

Castiel was staring after him when Dean turned around. “Well. That went well.”

Dean stormed up to him, getting so close that Castiel couldn’t move. “What the hell were you thinking? Telling him like that! He could have…”

“It doesn’t remotely bother you that Sam, who has more right than any of us to be frightened and angry over Lucifer being set free, just brushed it aside? As if it was nothing?” Castiel asked calmly. Dean leaned back a bit, trying to see past Castiel’s quiet resolve.

Eventually, he shook his head. “Yeah, you got a point.”

“Keep an eye on him. Perhaps it will wear off. We’ve earned a bit of rest either way.”

“Why? Where are you going?” Dean started but the angel was already gone. “Damn, Cas. I need your help.”

~~~

Meg went to the only place she knew she’d find quiet. She needed the loneliness and silence of the safe-house and for once her teleporting there went without a hitch. The warded walls greeted her with a hum and she ran her hand over one to check. Nothing had changed since she’d left last. Meg snapped on a few lights before she closed her eyes, trying to absorb that strange warmth.

But nothing seemed to get rid of the disturbing thoughts in her head.

Glimpsing herself in one of the mirrors, she turned and stared intently at the mirror. On its surface she saw her true face, the one not perfectly melded with her meatsuit’s, and winced. Hands going to her head, she held tight and shook her head. When the moment passed, she slammed her fist into the mirror so that the glass shattered.

“I hate this,” she whispered as she looked at her hand. There were no wounds, no blood. She looked back up at the mirror and gave herself another once over, not seeing her true face this time.

If the house couldn’t help get rid of that sinking feeling in her stomach, then she was royally screwed, Meg decided.

Not having much else she could do, she climbed the stairs to the loft room. The bedsheets were still rumpled from last night they’d spent here and she paused to stare at them thoughtfully. Too vivid memories played out and she nervously moved back out into the hall. It was too easy, remembering that last moment when she’d realized how much things had changed. It wasn’t just the house or the fact that she now actually felt safe here.

Abaddon’s sudden reappearance, her disappointment and talk about Azazel and Lucifer, only reminded of her what she had been not ten years ago. Of what she had slowly had become. Something that none of the older demons, let alone her, could have expected.

The thought should have sickened her.

But it didn’t.

_You find a cause and serve it. Give yourself over…_

She entered the nursery and flicked on the light, so that she could see the pale yellow walls and boxes staggered around the room. Meg circled the room and then ran a hand over the crib’s rails. An odd feeling of melancholy caught at her and she rested both arms on the rail. Castiel had dropped the stuffed unicorn in the crib and its black plastic eyes stared back at her almost accusingly.

“What am I doing here?” she asked herself and put her hand to her head. That soft tug caught her attention. “Nyx, Nyx, curious thing.”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re not even supposed to exist, remember?” Meg slid her arms around her middle and sat on the window seat to stare around the room.

“So, umm, this’ll be your room, I guess. I think. Three months from now I’ll uh, you’ll be here.”

The sudden thought that whatever was inside her was going to come to life made her suddenly nervous. Her eyes shut and she sighed, turning a little. The reality felt too harsh, felt too much. The movement fluttered inside her and she shook her head, still trying to ease the ache.

"You’re just moving like crazy, aren’t you?" She thumped her fingers on her stomach. "You just don’t want me to forget you’re there. Not like I can forget the past months if I wanted to."

“I needed answers and no one can give one that makes sense.” She leaned her head back. Something was moving outside and she stared out the window.

Castiel was walking slowly up the walkway and she backed away from the window when he looked up at her. 

He waited for her in the loft room, as usual, and Meg took her time getting to him. The lights flickered a little and she watched him give an exasperated wave of the hand. The main lights flicked off but the lamps remained on to give him a glow. Like before, he seemed cagey and unsettled, ready to fly off for the sake of it. Biting her lower lip, Meg considered just leaving him alone.

"I came here to talk to you, not to be alone,” he said suddenly and she jumped, thinking she’d been able to sneak up on him. Castiel looked up at her, still rain damp and looking tired. But he made no move towards her, just sat on the worn armchair and waited for her to sit as well. Meg watched him as she sat down and leaned back against the damaged headboard. She waited but he didn’t speak; he just watched her. 

There was something impossible in those eyes that let her know why he kept following her.

Finally, she had to ease the tension. “How you holdin’ up, Clarence?”

He shrugged and looked out the nearest window. “Wracked with guilt, anger, frustration, self hatred and — “

"So, typical day, huh?" she tried flippantly.

“Concern.” He finished it bluntly and her arched eyebrows only received a calm, patient look in return.

“Concern? About the Winchesters Two?” 

“For you.” His eyes went over her. “And for Nyx but you concern me, Meg. Quite a bit.”

She plucked at her shirt hem. “All in one happy big pregnant piece, Clarence, don’t waste a thought on…”

“You’re frightened.” He leaned forward a little on the arm chair. “I can tell.”

“I’m not frightened,” Meg scoffed and then met his eyes. Castiel waited until she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Maybe a bit.”

“Why?”

“Not knowing when the shit is about to hit the fan is likely taking a toll,” she grumbled. Castiel ran his thumb over the back of his hand and sighed.

“I’m frightened. The last time I held this much power, I - you wouldn’t understand.” He shook his head. “No one understood at the time.”

Meg stared at him and gave a sharp bark of laughter that made him look up. He glared at her but she couldn’t stop. The warning purse of his lips and the slight squint in his eyes made it hard to keep it in.

“It’s not funny.”

“Wouldn’t understand?” Her voice bordered on hysterical anger. “Need I remind you that because of what we did, I now have some strange little thing who is living inside of my meatsuit’s uterus while fending off dastardly archangels such as yourself.”

"I know but." He paused, frustrated. "Meg."

"Clarence."

Castiel looked back down at his hands. “That isn’t what scares you. It isn’t just her. Its you, isn’t it? You’re scared of yourself.”

“Her power doesn’t scare me, I’m just thinking that it won’t be.” She gestured. “As much as it is, it — “

“Won’t be enough. I know. Is that the only thing?”

“Finishing my sentences, cute. What’s next? Matching track suits?” She shifted on the bed. “It’s not just Nyx, okay? That’s what you want to know? Fine. Now drop it.”

“Meg, I-”

She cut him off, “How did you know I was here?”

“I knew. I couldn’t find you and I… I called to Nyx. I’m sorry if it hurt you.” He ran his hand through his dark hair and lowered his head. Meg watched him, still sitting only feet away. “I’m not sure I should be trusted like this, not if I’ve changed. But if I call to Nyx then I don’t know if it will hurt you. There’s no other option. I can’t find you sometimes, can’t summon you with your stolen name either and I’ve tried. Meg, it is for the-”

“Nahara.”

The word she blurted out made him look up. “What did you say?”

Her expression was clear that she had just told him something that was important and he watched her face, waited. He realized, the longer he stared at her, what the word was and he couldn’t help but hope…

“My name was Nahara one time.” Her eyes remained on the wall behind him. “My true name.”

Castiel could only stare and then blurt out the first that came to mind. “Aramaic.” He realized then just how old she could be.

Meg scooted back a bit. “Names can be used to truly summon. So maybe you can find me without freaking out Nyx.”

“You’re trusting me with your old name,” Castiel muttered. The weight of that trust was heavy.

“I’m trusting you not to make me regret it, feathers.” She looked at her hand. “And don’t go calling me by it either unless in emergency summonings, or asking me why I was sent to Hell, or I’ll de-feather you. I’ve never considered it a name that was mine.” She smiled wistfully. “Back when I was with Azazel, I liked that name Meg. Hell, I killed an oracle in Megara once. Some names stick with you and that one always found me. That is my name now and what I am.”

She fidgeted at his look. “I was a human woman for twenty-four years. I’ve been what I am now for much, much longer than that. I’m Meg and I’m a demon.”

“Why now?” His voice was tense. “Why trust me now?”

“I don’t know. Just don’t make me regret it.” She turned around and pulled the covers back on the bed, toeing off her boots as she did so. 

“So you’re staying here?”

He watched her, still trying to come to terms with what she’d given him. “I was thinking of it.”

“Good.”

Castiel’s eyes went over her back and the thought of her trust, of her name, slowly was overcome. He had to clear his throat a few times. “You’re trying to distract me.”

"Is it working?" She looked over her shoulder at him with an arched eyebrow.

The angel could only stare as she began to undress in front of him.

"Yes."

~~

“You need to calm down for like 10 seconds,” Dean ordered as he followed Sam around the bunker. Carrying a stack of books, his younger brother had gotten it into his head to clean up the archives and renumber everything. That wouldn’t have concerned Dean so much if he hadn’t tried, fought, to get Sam to react to something other than books.

All he would get was a soft grin and a “It’s fine, Dean.”

Hell, he even deliberately burnt the last of their food. Childish but he’d hoped for something.

Sam had simply gone out and bought pizza instead.

There was one thing more annoying than Sam being angry with him and serene Sam was that thing.

“Look, if we find a way to close the Gates still, maybe we can finally get some peace and quiet,” Sam said over his shoulder. “Remember?”

“And you heard Chuck and Meg and Kevin. Close Gates, end world. Simple. Easy peasy is not so easy.” Dean caught one of the books about to fall.

“I think we should just keep all our options open.” He stopped at one of the shelves and nudged his hip to fix a book jutting out. “I mean, what if melding the two worlds brings about some sort of utopia?”

Dean was staring at him as he finished fixing the archive shelf. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? I mean, think about it, Dean. What if…”

“No, we’re not thinking about that.” He waved his hand and stalked away. “Don’t be stupid, Sam. This isn’t an option. We don’t destroy the world because we ‘think’ we’ll get Paradise.”

“I was there, Dean!” Sam followed him back to the common room. “I felt it. I was- I was healed there! For the first time I felt peace.”

“With Lucifer right there beside you. This is crazy talk, Sam, you know what he really wants!” Dean spun on his heel and gave him a thump on the chest. “Don’t. Just don’t!”

Sam glared at him, finally losing that serenity he’d felt. The low blows from Dean about him not thinking clearly had finally gotten under his skin. 

“I’m just trying to think of you, Dean, you and the others. If we can do this together then maybe…”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Sam, if we’re going to do this together, then let’s get Cas back here. Maybe he can check your memories and see what happened to you there.”

Sam clenched his jaw and looked away.

“If this place is as good as you say it is, then you shouldn’t be worried, right?” he finished and finally Sam nodded. 

“Fine. Let’s call Cas.”

“Good idea.” Kevin’s sudden interruption made them both jump. He’d appeared out of nowhere and looked as bright-eyed as Sam. Holding onto his bag, he grinned at them. “We need all the help we can get.”

Both brothers could only stare at him.

~~

Naomi watched the bunker, frustrated to no end. She could have sworn she’d heard Castiel’s voice through the wavelengths earlier. The Impala was still parked outside but she couldn’t physically enter the bunker and couldn’t even find her brother anywhere near here.

There were so few of them left that her slow dismissal of his sins stemmed more from loneliness than forgiveness.

Even when watching him operate as a soldier, she’d recognized the signs of a potential rebel but also of someone who could lead if pushed to it. God knew she could lead; she had done so for centuries under Michael. But these angels needed someone who had been stripped of Heaven for years, who had walked alone and who had had to fight.

She needed someone like that to tell her what to do.

“Oh, Father. What should I do?” she prayed.

~~

Chuck groaned. “Shut up. All of you shut up!” he shouted at the computer screen. His hands clutched at his head and he felt a slicing headache go through him.

The cursor blinked repeatedly and then, slowly, began to move. As he kept his head bent, the keys began to type on their own and filled the screen with page after page.

~~~

If she’d expected the shift in power in him to redefine what was between them, Meg was wrong. Castiel was silent on it, not seeming to want to talk much. He’d been tired though, she could feel it in the way he’d moved, and eventually she had had to undressed him. Though he’d held her and clearly wanted her, Castiel was distracted and for once she wasn’t the cause.

It had stung her ego a little. Instead of thinking it to death, she’d simply decided to doze. Castiel had lain down beside her, staring up at the skylight like he’d liked to do when he was thinking. Something he thought she hadn’t noticed but she was aware of it now.

For once, there’d been no demands, nothing to cause him to fly away from her. Meg wasn’t sure when she’d started to find that appealing but she said nothing. Castiel was thinking. She could swear she heard the thoughts hanging in the air around them. Every now and then his power would fluctuate as he tried something but she never saw anything actually happen beyond the lights flickering. They’d been quiet each other for a while now and Meg wasn’t ready to break that. 

She was dozing against him, morbidly counting the amount of people she’d killed over the years in her head, when her stomach rumbled.

He was gone and then back before she had time to sit up.

The sound of something being put on the bedside table made her lift her head on the pillow. She cautiously opened one eye to look at the plate set there and she blinked. 

Castiel likely didn’t realize how ridiculous it looked for him to be naked and setting things to the side for her. His muscles moved slow and she eyed the way his back flexed, as if there were wings being moved around. He caught her staring and gave her an absentminded smile before going back to his place on the bed.

“You like this idea of waiting on me?”

He shrugged and fixed the sheets back over his hips. “If you’re hungry, you should eat. It is just common sense.”

Meg spied the peanut butter jar as she sat up and grinned. “You’re cluing in to the cravings, angel. No more questions about it?”

“Like I said before, you’re a creature of habit.” Castiel stretched out beside her and rolled onto his stomach, still eyeing her. He looked relaxed for the first time in hours, head resting on his crossed arms.

She sat up on the bed a bit and gave him a smug grin. “Personal angel service? What’s next, hot wings and whipped cream?” She snagged one of the apples from the table. When she bit into it, she was surprised that for once the idea of food didn’t repel her. Around the piece in her mouth, she mumbled, 

"God, I love…”

He blinked and stared at her. 

Meg shut herself up and almost threw the apple away, all appetite forgotten.

“You know what I meant.”

She didn’t miss the half-smile that crept up, at the corner of his lips. “I do?”

“Things like that don’t mean anything. It was about food.” 

“Of course.”

Meg squirmed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I said something like that!”

He shrugged and lowered his head. “I didn’t say a word.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Still need to work on your understanding sarcasm.”

One blue eye opened to peek up at her. “Then why are you starting to smile?”

"I’m not smiling." She crossed her arms over her chest and resolutely looked away. She heard him scoff and then hesitantly looked again.

He wisely rolled his head to the other side and closed his eyes.

To keep herself from blurting out anything more, Meg finished the apple, crunching loudly and forcing herself to eat. Castiel was silent as she ate but she saw his breathing even out as if he was trying to sleep. Setting the core back on the table, she didn’t touch the other food. She  slowly fixed the pillows around her head and laid back down to face the wall again. 

Castiel sighed and turned back over, slowly moving across the bed to be behind her. There was no point in her hiding from him, not when he could see it all so easily when she looked at him. But it seemed to matter to her and considering what he knew of her, it made too much sense. He was patient.

Shushing the prayers starting to trickle into his awareness, he reached out and brushed his hand over the curve of the demon’s smooth hip.

"Meg," he murmured, deliberately trying to disturb her this time. The quiet hours he’d spent here had just highlighted how much he needed something to distract him. His mouth brushed her neck and Meg turned under his touch. 

One eye opened just a little to watch him. “You up to something, feathers?”

He shrugged and slipped down, teeth nipping at the curve of her breast. “Maybe.” Propping his chin on her breast, he drew a line down the centre of her body with a finger.

Her laugh was husky and he knew she was already letting go of that slip of the tongue. “Ooh, corrupted angels. My favourite.”

She saw his blue eyes flick up to her face and then back. He circled his finger over her solar plexus, where there was a faint ridge of scar tissue left. Meg watched him from under her eyelashes when he reached over and flicked his tongue along the scar. Her hands finally moved and she put her fingers in his hair, holding him steady. 

But just as suddenly as he’d been trying to arouse her, he sighed and rested his weight on-top of her, forehead pressing between her breasts. His body moved between her legs and she shifted so he was lying on her instead. 

He moved down and rested his head on her stomach. Meg kept her eyes half open and tentatively watched him.

His cheek pressed against her belly. “Your old name is quite beautiful. What it means makes it rather ironic, all things considering.”

“Don’t go there, feathers. I was just starting to relax.”

He simply sighed. “Do you know anything about what you were before you were a demon? When you had your name?”

“I’m too old to remember a lot.” It was spat out and his head lifted a little. “Fragments really. Never had a father, or a real mother… or any religion back then. You get raised on the streets to survive the only way you can. You killed, you made deals.”

He looked up at her thoughtful tone. 

“Come to think of it, Azazel was my first true father. The demons my family.” Her eyes dropped to where he was resting. “Much as that means.”

“It does mean something. I saw your face with Abaddon.”

She looked away. “It does. You don’t forget that you belonged at one time, that you had something like a family. Even if it was only for a time.”

“The price of you…” He stroked his hand down her ribcage. “Finding a new cause.”

“No one said it would be easy.” Her eyes shut a little and she felt him sigh. “Remember?”

“Yes, that’s true.” He lay still on top of her, heavy and warm, and she shut her eyes again.

“How long are we staying here?” she asked as she felt his breath brush over her skin and his arms tighten around her a little. It was like having an oversized cat trying to curl up onto her lap. “Until you figure out how to use your powers, Superman?”

“Considering my kryptonite is obvious, it might be wise to wait before I try anything.”

Her eyes opened but he wasn’t looking at her. “Gets me hot when you use pop culture on me.”

“I can imagine,” he answered dryly, still not moving. “We could just wait here.”

“We could.” She drew a line on his shoulders with a nail. “I don’t know, Clarence. You and me? All alone for a few hours, what kind of trouble could we get up to?”

She felt him snort against her skin. “That’s a rhetorical question.”His hand rested flat on her stomach. “Nyx?”

Again that soft, connecting tug and a solid thump.

“She’s still restless.”

“Believe me, I know that. I think she’s growing again.” Meg turned under him a little, propping herself up on a pillow and the headboard. “It’s not just her moving that is making me ache but before I was feeling like a drum.”

“Maybe she was frightened.”

“Maybe.” 

Castiel smoothed his hand down her stomach, feeling his overcharged Grace wash over her and clash with her own thorny darkness. But the two powers actually seemed to be at peace with each other instead of causing any aches like they had before. Under them he felt another strong pulse of power. It wasn’t just Nyx though; she was something he’d always felt once they all connected months ago. 

What he was feeling under the surface of the skin was part of Meg.

Realizing that maybe there was far more to her made him wonder. Wonder what there was about her; there was something more than a follower of Azazel or Lucifer, more than a soul who’d been resurrected, more than a strange demon who’d chosen an angel as her lover. As a soldier and a seraph, he hadn’t felt it so acutely before. But now he felt it with everything in him. 

He had to wonder if Meg was something far more than she let on.

When their eyes met, he licked his lips nervously. 

“Something up?”

“No.” Reluctantly, he pulled himself up her body and then rolled to the side. “I can hear Dean praying. We should get back.”

There was a flash of disappointment in her eyes that made him look at her curiously. But then it was gone and she was grinning instead. “All right.”

~~

The bunker was quiet again when they arrived, Meg shrugging off his hold on her arm and making her way to the common room.

“I swear these alarms aren’t doing any good,” Dean said from overhead. He had dangled a bottle of beer in his hand, and Castiel looked up at him.

“There was an emergency?”

“Something like that.” He nodded to the piles of books on the table Meg was looking at. “The world’s most adorable prophet is back.”

“Kevin?” Meg blurted out and the hunter rolled his eyes.

“No,  the other one.”

“There is no other one that comes to mind,” Castiel muttered to himself and Meg nudged him hard in the ribs. “Oh, right.”

“Between him and Sam, I have had it up to here with enthusiastic and way too happy people.” Dean took a long pull of the beer. “So, Cas. Feel like pulling some therapy on Sam when he wakes up?”

The angel shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Kevin?” Meg asked and Dean shrugged. 

“He was asking about his mom, then grabbed a carton of milk, some food and locked himself in his room.” He adjusted his lean a little to get comfortable. “I think we can bet on Mama Tran needing to be here. He’s going off the deep end.”

Meg looked at Castiel and the angel sighed. “Very well.”

He blinked out and Dean focussed on Meg. “Why are you so concerned about Kev anyway?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t try to get cute, Winchester. He’s been the only human in this outfit to actually not freak out over anything I do.”

“I can imagine how Cas would feel about that.” Moody and needing to take it out on someone, Dean took another drink. He jumped when she teleported so she was beside him. Meg’s hand clamped around his throat and pinned him up against the nearest wall.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Dean. I’m tired, I’m pregnant, and I’m really not wanting to be here. I only came because Castiel insisted.” She leaned close. “So try acting like an asshole on someone else, okay?”

Dean’s eyes crossed a little and he stared at her. “Yeah, sure.” He rubbed at his throat when she let him go.

“Good.” She stalked off to the rooms and Dean whistled under his breath, unable to keep a little bit of admiration out of his whistle. The demon he had all reason not to trust or like, but sometimes he had to admit she was…

The sudden flutter to his left meant that Castiel had heard the whistle the second he came back. The angel eyed him and Dean gave him an embarrassed little smirk. Linda Tran was dwarfed by them both but she looked livid already. 

“So, this is the dump you all are hiding out in?” she said, letting go of Castiel’s shoulder and looking over the railing. She gave Dean a look. “What the hell have you been doing with my son then?”

Dean went red automatically, his usual reaction to her, as she brushed by him. Castiel looked at Dean thoughtfully.

“She was very colourful in her language when talking about you and Sam.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

~~

Meg didn’t bother to knock on Kevin’s door. He wouldn’t open it anyway she figured and she walked in, nearly tripping over a pile of books.

That he didn’t even jump meant he’d heard her coming.

“Dean said you were back,” she said for a greeting. His dark head was bent low over two vials, carefully measuring something.

“Yes, well,” he mixed something together, “Dean is the master of observation.”

Meg looked at the piles and piles of books lining the floor. Suspicious, she stepped over one. “You okay Kev?”

“Uh, fine, just, reading. Nothing to worry about.” He waved her out of his way, checked one of the books and then came back to his table.

“What are you doing?” Linda’s voice was sudden and they both jumped. Kevin’s eyes widened a little and he gave her a grin. 

“Mom!” He didn’t move. “Cas got you?”

“Flew me here, yes. I won’t be able to eat for hours probably now. And just what are you doing?”

“Just some… experiments. Nothing major.” He smiled at her. Meg’s eyes flicked between the two. From what the demon had understood, though she was hard on him sometimes, Kevin’s mother was fiercely protective of her only child. Kevin adored her in return and was always eager to please. 

Now he was giving her the same sort of absent grin he’d given Meg.

“Experiments?”

“Just trying to figure some things out.” He turned and looked at Meg. “You can give me a hand, actually. I need some of your blood.”

Tilting her head on the side, she watched him slid a scalpel towards her. He picked up a vial and, seeing no other option, she carefully slit a line on her palm. Kevin gave her a nervous smile and held the vial under the wound to collect the blood.

“So this is holy water,” he said, holding up another vial. “And this is your blood.”

“Yeah, I clued in to that when I dripped it into the vial,” Meg muttered, rolling her eyes and wiping her hand on her jeans.

Kevin tipped the water into the blood vial.

The two liquids seemed to fight, centrifuging themselves and bubbling a little. Linda came up beside Meg and squinted.

“They’re trying to mix.”

“Yep.” He held it up to the light as the swirling in the vial stopped. “Perfect.”

Meg was stupefied by the sight as the blood and holy water mixed perfectly, forming a sedate, regular crimson red liquid. “That’s impossible. The water burns us.” She looked at him. “How did you do that?”

“I… am still not sure. It just sort of came to me,” Kevin said though his eyes dropped.

Meg stared at the vial and her hand went to her stomach. 

Kevin was already back at work when she retreated out to the hall. Leaning against the wall, Meg stared up at the lights overhead.

Linda Tran followed her.

“You’re looking very different from last time we met.” She eyed her. “Are you eating properly?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Focus on your own kid. I’ve got a nanny angel keeping an eye on me already.”

“Fine. I’ve only talked to him on the phone a few times but each time he sounds off.” She crossed her arms over her chest “Kevin’s been so distant. Something is wrong.”

The demon shook her head. “Something is always wrong. He’s just unlucky enough to be here because of it.”

Linda’s eyes were thoughtful. “You like him. Kevin, I mean.”

“Kid’s done no wrong to me.” She looked at her. “He wanted you here, Dean said.”

“Good, because I am going to make sure he is eating. He looks terrible.” The other woman nodded. “He needs food and sleep. I guess once these Gates are closed, everything can go back to normal.”

Meg kept her mouth shut and watched the human walk down the hall. Staring up at the lights again, she sighed and shuddered.

The sudden pressure and fear weighing down on her felt too real.

~~

The old house, stuck in the middle of suburbia, was the perfect spot in north Texas. Just enough poverty and just enough crime in the area that the screaming inside the house went unnoticed. The demons outside looked at each other a bit nervously then continued their rounds. They knew better than to disobey their Queen. She watched them out the broken window before she turned around.

“You know all this torture is nothing, right? The truth is I’m barely doing a thing to you,” Abaddon said, voice light and conversational. She checked one perfectly manicured hand and then looked at Crowley.

He wasn’t fighting. He hadn’t fought her at all and just rested on the chair, his head leaning back. No matter the blow or the cut, he never changed expression. The eyes remained red, the look remained slack and distracted.

Almost as if he wasn’t frightened by her. His eyes kept wandering over the ceiling and dismissed her when she walked in front of him. That actually made her more angry than before and she swept in close, nails digging into his cheek.

“Okay, let’s ask another question since you clearly don’t know much about Meg.” He twitched under her touch but didn’t look away from the wall. “Where is Lucifer?” 

“Inthelethe.”

“Darling, you are going to have to speak more clearly or I’m going to tear out your tongue.” She grabbed his jaw and squeezed his chin between her fingers, bending close to him. “Lucifer returned, I can feel it. When I was pulled from the concrete, I was told he was being freed, so he could find his family. That can only mean us.”

His eyes actually focussed on her, losing that foggy look.

“Where. Is. Lucifer?” She spoke slowly and a weird, choking sound of laughter began to escape. It was borderline hysterical and she let him go, standing back.

"Intheletheehehe." His head lolled back on the chair. “Inletheinlethe.”

Abaddon slapped him but it did no good.  “WHERE IS HE?”

"Ishedtheletheyousore."

“Oh, that’s it. I don’t like doing this with your type, Crowley, but I think I can make an exception,” she hissed and she quickly straddled his lap while holding onto his neck. Her eyes went to black. “I want to see what you saw.”

His eyes opened wide as black smoke slid from her and into his mouth. His own demonic essence fought against her and Abaddon felt blood in her own mouth as they clashed. Slowly, like a snake wrapping its prey, her power coiled around his and squeezed until he let go.

The flashes from him to her made her leap off of him, her power snapping back into her and her eyes remaining black. He looked up at her in a daze and Abaddon licked her lips thoughtfully. The visions had divided so that one part of his memories meant nothing to her. Just fog and white noise.

The other parts made her realize that there was something very dangerous about the Winchesters’ plans. What they were going to do was the very thing she had been trained to stop. The urge to kill and destroy something flared so strong that she lifted her hand for a blow, ready to tear Crowley’s head off his body.

A murmur in her head, soft and gentle, stopped her hand.

Slowly, she grinned instead.

“I always wanted a little chew toy, Crowley. Your dogs will be happy to see you, I think.”

She walked away from him slowly to speak to her demons. When the door closed behind her, Crowley bent his head to the chains on his wrists. With only sharp tug, they shattered and he nodded as if unsurprised.

“Stoldtruthstoldtruths,” he muttered. He tossed the chain over the salt line and the soft powder was disturbed, creating an out for him. “Needtofindneedcureneedpowerneedcureneedpeaceneedtostop.”

The jumble of words meant barely anything to him as he carefully teleported himself out of the room just before the demons returned to carry him to Hell. 

~~~

The soft sound of waves beating against the shore line, the feeling of warmth soaking his skin, it all felt so incredibly real that Sam lay still. It felt beautiful and comforting. So real. Here, he was healed and whole.

Except he felt that warmth slowly building, starting to become that raging fever once more. A fever that was going to steal his strength and give him only pain.

His head lolled back on the pillow and he sighed, opening his eyes. 

“It is not real, you know.”

His eyes snapped open and he looked to find Castiel sitting on the bed at his feet, staring at him. 

“When did you get here?” he asked groggily as he sat up. “I’d think you’d get tired of your watchdog thing.”

The angel sighed. “I don’t need sleep, Sam.”

“Yeah, I remember.” He rubbed at his jaw and yawned. “What can I do for you, Castiel? Something wrong?”

“There are many things wrong.” He was looking at his hands now. “It’s just a matter of deciding which is the worst.”

“Profound, really.” Sam rolled his eyes and stood up. “How’s the upgrade?”

“Dean told you.”

“Of course he did. Almost seemed happy about it but you?” Sam grabbed a bottle of water off his dresser and took a long gulp to ease the dryness in his throat. He wiped his mouth before pointing the bottle at the angel. “You don’t.”

“I stole my brother’s Grace and because of my actions, I believe the angel tablet was completed. Even if accidentally.” Castiel stood and faced the taller man. “So you’ll have to forgive that I am not happy with the results.”

“I bet.” Sam shifted a little. “The whole family is gone?”

“When I went to Heaven, there was no one. Only the souls that make it their home and they are… lost without the angels. Unprotected and lost.”

“Yeah but,” he waved his hand a little, “they could be happy, the angels.”

“What did you say?” Castiel demanded, voice low and threatening. Sam didn’t hear it.

“Lethe, man, it’s - Dean’s sure there’s something wrong, that’s just Dean, but Lethe, it’s, your brothers and sisters, they’re happy, they’re loved and, it’s so much better.” Sam gave a nervous laugh. “I mean. Imagine all this world, and all of those troubles and cares gone.”

“You heard Meg the first time. Lethe is not Heaven, Sam. That peace comes at a price.”

“Everything comes with a price. Dean’s soul being saved, my dad’s, mine. What if at least this price can bring something final to it?”

Castiel could only stare at him. 

“I mean, we don’t know for sure that it will end the world. Maybe it just brings in a utopia.” Sam shrugged.

“I refuse to believe you are that naive.”

“I’m just wondering if you’d be so against it if you didn’t have a massive thing for Meg,” he snapped back.

“Everything we have done is for the right to choose, Sam,” Castiel tried patiently. “You and Dean both know that.”

“What if we’re making the wrong choice?” His voice dropped. “I mean, if only you could see Lethe, you could understand.”

“Perhaps.”

Before Sam could stop him, Castiel reached up and pressed his fingers to his forehead. It made him go rigid as Castiel invaded his mind as carefully as he could, almost immediately finding the memories of Lethe.

But unlike Sam, who’d revelled in it, all Castiel could see was souls wandering, never once truly seeing each other. He saw the way the tranquility transformed them, how they faded and become one blended type of soul. How in being given peace they lost their true freedom. He searched through the memories, wanting to find this Sheol, wanting a face to the enemy.

He delved deeper, hearing Sam’s whimper of pain, and searched. But there was nothing. Perhaps if he wiped that memory away from Sam….

Impossibly, he thought he felt fingers grab him by his own Grace and pull him back. 

**“You’re not strong enough, angel. Back away.”**

Repelled, he let go of Sam and stepped back. There was no one in the room but them. The hunter swayed on his feet, eyes rolling back in his head, and Cas caught him before he could fall. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. That was necessary.”

He dragged him to the bed and set him down roughly before going to the door. Dean was waiting in the hall, looking at him nervously and rocking back and forth on his heels. He hadn’t liked having to wait to get an answer and the angel didn’t have one he thought Dean would like. Castiel closed the door behind himself and leaned against it.

“We need to keep a close eye on him,” he said after a tense moment. Dean nodded.

“You think he’s getting worse?”

“I think he may do something foolish without even being aware of it.” 

~~~~

Familiar. That’s what this place was now.

Meg stood in the centre of the demon cell, underneath the broken trap, and let the tiny scraps of light flicker behind her. It was cold in here and she could still see the signs from when she’d reacted badly to being kept within the walls. Now she had to choose them.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself angrily. “Things were so much clearer a few years ago.”

She tried to picture it in her head. Still running to the ground, with loyalists to Lucifer at her back. Fighting angels and demons alike, looking for anything she could to give her a sign she was on the right track.

Irony was that she never found it until she was close to hitting bottom in faith and cause.

Nyx was silent whenever they were in the bunker. No white noise, no kicking. Even without Castiel close by, there’d been nothing to disturb her apparently. Meg almost missed the movements though there was the feeling of a constant connection.

Why the hell she’d let Castiel bring her back here, when she wasn’t needed really, she had no idea.

She heard footsteps behind her, a hesitation that let her know who it was. Closing her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest and stayed staring at the painted sigils on the wall.

Castiel stood just behind her, all warmth and light. Irrationally she wondered if it would have been easier if they’d just hated each other. If all of this was had been nothing but meaningless coincidence.

When she turned around, he was watching her and he reached out to take her hand. He looked at the still healing cut on her palm, traced his fingers over it and then slipped his hand to cup her neck.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, the Winchesters are just Glee central.”

He shook his head. “You’re not feeling well. I can tell. I noticed it before in the safehouse. You look like you’re troubled.”

She opened her mouth to deny it and then caught the look in his eye. There was no point in lying. The fingers on the nape of her neck slid down her back, causing fresh flushes of warmth to go through her, and without thinking she leaned forward, pressing her head to his chest.

“What did Gigantor have to say for himself?”

“He’s not well,” Castiel murmured, breath brushing her ear. 

“That’s news?” she asked and he subtly moved further into her.

“I can feel it, Meg. Whatever is wrong with him is affecting him badly. But he’s losing his will to fight and that’s not Sam.”

“Sounds serious.” She nodded and he bent his head. 

“You’re unwell.”

“I’m frustrated, Clarence. Do you even wonder anymore what the purpose is behind all this or am I the only one now still stuck on that?”

He didn’t answer her, just wondered at the faint echo of Sam’s own frustrations in her voice. She needed an answer though, he could feel it as she leaned against him and he smoothed his hand down her back. He held her tighter and tried to think of one.

“Meg, I think…”

“Hey!” Kevin’s exuberant shout made her jump in his arms. But unlike whenever Dean interrupted them, he noticed that around Kevin she didn’t move away. She simply stayed in his arms as if it didn’t matter that they were caught. The prophet gave them only a quick look, clearly not caring what he saw. 

“What’s up?” Meg asked, still not moving away from Castiel’s warmth.

“Found something in the archives. Dean thought it was just a blank film reel but it looks like that test I did on you earlier. I think it might be something we can use to get Sam back to normal.” He waved his hand. “And to get this Gates of Hell thing off our backs. I found something else that has to do with the angel tablet and the demon tablet. So you know, Cas should be interested.”

Meg looked up at Castiel and he looked down at her. “Test?”

“Oh you know, science.” She wiggled her hand free and they both looked at the cut on her hand. Kevin coughed.

“Some time today,” he said loudly before pushing away and running back the way he’d come. Castiel sighed and Meg grinned at his expression before it faded a little.

“I should go back.”

“No.” His grip tightened on her hand. “Stay. You may need to see this.”  
  
"I’m tired.” She shook her head. “Not even sure I  want to know about this miracle idea of Kevin’s.”  
  
Her attempt to brush it off only made him look at her more thoughtfully than before. Meg finally sighed and looked up at him.  
  
 “Oh fine. I hope I don’t regret it.”  
  
 Castiel took her arm and gently led her from the cell. “Do you always expect the worst?”  
  
 “Keeps me from being disappointed,” she muttered. “Why do you want me there anyway?”  
  
  “Because I think that you’re needed more than you realize, Meg.”

 


	20. The Calm (When Demons Plan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sam begins to make his final decision, Kevin thinks he can find a cure for the power slowly killing him. No longer heeding Sheol’s warnings, Lucifer knows it is time to use his own plans for revenge while the angels remaining on Earth try to find hope in following God’s Will.

**In the Lethe**

**Part 12: The Calm (When Demons Plan)  
**

Grainy and distorted images flickered onto the white screen, running together in a loop as the projector struggled to play the old film reel. With no sound and scratchy images, the film itself was hard to watch. The black and white film was so old that it was in bad shape, blurring the people who were moving around on the screen.  

No one watching cared. They were almost entranced by what the film was about, not the condition it was in.

“That’s our dungeon,” Dean muttered and Sam nodded.

Linda Tran gave them both a look. “You have a dungeon.”

“Well…” Dean couldn’t hide his almost smarmy grin. 

“Shh.” Kevin was trying to fix the reel but broke his concentration to glare at them. Dean shrugged and looked back up at the screen.

A woman was chained into the centre of the dungeon room, similar to how they had changed Crowley at one time. Bent awkwardly over at the waist so her forehead pressed to the ground with her arms anchored behind her back, it looked submissive and quiet. But the grainy images couldn’t hide the mass cuts and deeper wounds that lacerated her bare back. Her clothing was in strips and she was shaking violently.

“What the hell did they do to her?” Sam asked.

The camera turned to face a sour-faced older man, a priest by the sight of his white collar and black starched suit, and he was speaking at it. Whoever held the camera had a shaky hand and the lack of sound was becoming frustrating the longer he seemed to talk. The woman behind him was beginning to move a little, pulling at the chains that bound her to the ground.

Dean turned in his chair a little and looked at Kevin. The prophet smacked the side of the projector repeatedly. Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat while Linda sighed and shook her head. 

“Not my fault,” Kevin muttered, “you guys got crappy equipment.”

On the other side, ignoring the humans, Castiel stared at Meg as he sat behind her. The demon was trying to hide her own interest but she was unable to keep from glancing at the white sheet they’d hung up to be a screen. She’d been quiet since they’d left the demon cell. Every now and then, he caught sight of her touching her stomach or clenching her fingers into fists. There was a violence brewing in her but from what he wasn’t sure.

Leaning forward, he reached out to touch her shoulder and saw her flinch as her head turned a little towards him.

“I’m fine,” she muttered and he leaned back, watching her carefully.

“Damn it, come on!” Kevin gave the projector a smack and Castiel sighed, reaching across the table. His fingers brushing the machine and it popped and cracked for a moment, the reel sounding like it was about to explode into flames. It stopped and then restarted on its own.

“…We’ve had some success,” the priest’s nasally high voice roared to life and everyone jumped, Sam nearly toppling over in his chair.

“Jesus, Kev!” Dean rubbed at his ear.

“Like I knew that would happen!” Kevin turned the volume down. “But thanks, Cas.”

The angel nodded and turned back around.

“… The process of curing demons was not taken lightly. We needed to find a way to save the souls trapped in the vessel. The ones the demons eat away, but we need to still manage to also save the demon’s soul. In essence, they become one if we can. A twining of souls.”

“Poetic,” Sam muttered.

In front of Castiel , Meg propped her boots up on the table and scooted down in her chair. But both Dean and Castiel noticed the way she put her hands on her stomach. Her head dropped a little to hide her expression.

The priest came into focus and his face was worn into exhausted lines, blood and bruises decorating his skin. There were carved scars on his cheeks, Glasgow-style, and his accent was thick. But more disturbing than the scars was the strange light in his eyes that even black and white film could not hide. Religious fervour glowed from him.

“I was instructed to aide the Men of Letters. When we began this experiment six hours ago, it was based on the notes of Thomas the Elder in the Crusades. What the notes failed to reveal, what the scholars have uncovered, was that Belial, the demon he healed, killed Thomas’ own brother shortly after. It was only by having him forced to labour, to let him kill others as he did best, that the Men of Letters could control him. They bound him to another soul to force him to their biddings. He was kept as an example against the demons but never released.” 

The film turned back to the chained woman and this time the loud growls and curses in Latin could be heard. Meg and Castiel could understand them and when Dean glanced at the angel, he waved his hand.

“She’s calling out to her own kind.”

“Right.”

Meg was no longer hiding her interest. She wore it openly for all of them to see but as Dean glanced at her upturned face, he wondered what had put such an uncomfortable look there. As if watching this was hurting her.

The priest’s voice was projected as he approached the demon. “I’ve tried, repeatedly. This one’s brother was cleansed, we believe, before we were forced to kill him. Though the demon taint is nearly gone from this one as well, there is something else I didn’t quite remember about demons.”

The Winchesters leaned forward but Meg stayed still.

Behind her, Castiel wondered at the tension in her. As if she’d expected this.

“I forgot.” The priest drew a shaky breath and the hand-reel turned to face the bloodied bodies of several men on the floor. “That demons come from humans.”

His voice choked. “And that some men can be born evil. I lost my brothers to this. When we scrubbed the demon’s surface clean… all we did was remove the darkness that it gained. Not what the demon was.”

He cleared his throat. “The other demon was destroyed and sent back to the Pit, we hope. Now we begin again for a new purpose.”

Meg shuddered.

“Through long hours of purification, the demon is nearly ready to be remade. Its blood is close to pure but not so pure this thing can’t be burned with holy water.”  To demonstrate, he splashed a vial at her and the demon’s howling roared through the archives. Castiel looked away and saw Sam watching with open fascination.

“But we’ve managed to come up with a use for this demon. The demon’s soul is still evident, mixed purely with the darkness. Now that it has been nearly purified, its blood is still of value. Not just as a stimulant but for healing.” Approaching her, the priest slapped the demon down with the back of his hand. She sprawled down, whimpering in pain, and he knelt on her back. They could just make out the faint curl of a smile on his face as he slid a needle into her neck, extracting a syringe full of blood.

“We began our process at the same time one of our Hunters was afflicted with the vampiric disease and he is mid-change.” The hand-reel followed him to where another man was chained in the corner. Castiel frowned and stared as the needle was plunged into his neck, the blood pumped into him. The fledgling threw its head back and hissed, exposing fangs at the priest.

“Demon’s blood can act as stimulant and if properly cultivated and changed by purification, it can heal. It can reverse.” 

The hunter suddenly lost the fangs, slowly growing back into his human self. He stared in bewilderment at the priest and then at the demon.

The loud scratch of a chair on the tiled floor made them all jump again. Castiel realized that he’d been so lost in the implications of what the experiment meant that Meg had stood up. Meg turned around and faced Castiel, the sight of him making her jump as if she’d forgotten he was there. He stared at her, seeing something under her carefully blank expression, and she shoved by, walking back through the archives. Dean gave the angel a puzzled look and he waved his hand, telling him without words that he’d be back.

“I guess Meg didn’t like the R rated version,” Dean muttered as the angel disappeared. Sam nodded, still watching the screen. “Maybe it’s that Nyx.”

“The what?” Linda looked away from the screen to him.

“That’s what they named the hell-spawn.”

Kevin popped his lips and shook his head. “Thought Meg would want to see this, especially since it could end up saving her baby. Or at least being interesting”

“Yeah well.” Sam’s voice was sharp and jerky and he slumped down in his chair. “Maybe we’re overestimating her.”

~~

Her hands shook and her eyes went black then brown out of pure anger and disgust. She’d heard the rumours of such things being done to demons. Not to say some might not deserve it, but built into her was a slight empathy for her kind. At least torture was pure, death an art. That had been something far more cruel. The demon had been begging him to let her die, had been calling for Azazel to save her, screaming out that it had not just been the blood experiment. That the Men of Letters had been doing something else to try to access more hidden knowledge than just demon’s blood. 

“I hate priests,” she muttered as she stalked up the catwalk towards the entry. “Self-righteous, sex starved freaks.”

Castiel’s sudden appearance before her had her stopping mid-stride and then sighing. She should have known he’d follow her. She hadn’t exactly been subtle in her disgust.

The angel looked at her and tilted his head on the side a little. “You’re angry.”

“You think?”

“Why?”

She stared at him. “We just watched the equivalent of a demon being a lab rat, and I’m not supposed to be a little upset?”

He shrugged. “You’ve not exactly been on their side lately.”

“You can’t tell me that what we just watched didn’t smack of more evil than you expect from a priest and the Men of Letters. Or are you so totally blind to it?” She walked around him and waved her hand, headed for the escape door. Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling and then followed her.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same.” 

She shoved open the door. “I’m a demon, Castiel. I admit to it, I don’t hide behind being a priest of God and pretending to be good. That bastard liked it. You heard what the demon was saying. That this wasn’t the first thing he’d done to their nest.”

He huffed angrily and watched her turn around to face him. “It was an experiment. If there is a way to find a cure for Sam…”

“Using demon blood. Didn’t that get him into trouble the first time? Big boy powers were too much for him.” Meg shook her head. “Can you imagine if the hunters had decided to try it before? And this is the magic cure for Sam now. Great”

 Castiel didn’t answer, remembering Sam’s obsession with demons blood, how it had changed him and warped him.

“‘Course you can. There’s a reason why what we are capable of is worth hiding sometimes,” Meg snapped and she slammed the door shut in his face. Castiel exhaled sharply and flicked outside. 

The demon was already walking away, agitation making her strides choppy. When she noticed him in front of her, she rolled her eyes and tried to brush by. He caught her arm and held her still, hooking his fingers around hers.

“This means nothing. If we can find a way…”

“Really? You don’t think that the Winchesters will get it into their heads that good old Meg blood might be just as good to try? You don’t think that Dean won’t do anything to save his baby brother?” she snapped. “You? You’d do anything to help them.”

Castiel did not flinch. “I won’t let them.”

“You would.” Her laugh was a bit dry and held a note of hysteria. “Because in the end all it would take is Sam breaking apart.”

“All we need to do is find Crowley.”

“Go ahead. Where is he?” she demanded. Castiel opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. “Right. He could be anywhere. Or dead.  Useless. And if you think Abaddon will leave a single demon out if she thinks you all are trying to use one, because I’m sure that news got back to her… than you’re stupider than I thought. There is no way you’ll get a single one.”

He leaned back against the parked Impala. “You’re frightened.”

“Have a right to be,” she said, not bothering to deny it.

Castiel looked away and up at the sky. “It’s more than the blood, isn’t it? It’s more…” He snapped his fingers as he searched for the word. “Personal.”

When he looked back down, the demon was staring at the door as if expecting Dean and Sam to charge out to grab her. She was still close enough to him that he could see the tick in her jaw when she clenched it.

“Meg?”

She started slow, fidgeting a little. “In Hell, our bodies aren’t ours, our souls become part of the Pit. What we scrounge out with is precious. It’s part of the reason why demons’ blood is so valuable. It’s not just our power there, the blood is us.” Her eyes went black and she looked at him. “We’re made to scream and cry and laugh and bleed and burn and there’s — whatever little is, still _there_ , that’s all, that’s all there is.” 

She gave him a pointed look. “It’s all we can really own and not have torn away easily.”

Castiel sighed and reached out to touch her shoulder. His thumb pressed just slightly into the old scar from an angel blade. 

“We can find Crowley. He is the best choice and I don’t doubt he’s alive. You said so yourself more than once how hard to kill he is.”

“So you want me to forget that what I just watched was disgustingly clear that they could do the same to me?

“I’m asking you to have faith.”

“Amazing, that an angel would say such a thing to a demon.”

The new voice made them both turn to face the surrounding woods. Stepping out from the shadows, Naomi and several other angels made imposing figures in the dim light. Meg and Castiel both moved away from the car as she walked a few steps out to face them. Her eyes were icy as they pinned Castiel in his place.

“Castiel.”

~~

Kevin clicked off the projector. “So what do you think?”

Dean rolled his head on his shoulders. “What am I supposed to think?” He sat up a bit. “That this is head and tails crazy?”

“If you can find Crowley, you can use his blood on Sam. Sort of like a therapy. ”

“That sounds sexy,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. Sam made a face.

“His blood is just corrupt enough, Sam, but not so far that you’ll change like Dean said you did when you were on demon’s blood before,” Kevin pressed. “My theory is that you have overcharged with purification. You essentially need to be… to be…”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Dirtied?”

“Kinky,” Dean said winking at her. The older woman shook her head but smirked a little.

"Not helping, Dean," Sam muttered angrily.

“And the opposite of pure is demons blood,” Kevin finished lamely. “There’s more on the tablets than just ways of closing the Gates, you know. I think the changed blood is part of it. Not all of it.”

“I’m not touching demons blood again.” Sam stood up so abruptly that his chair toppled over. “I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet.”

“Whoa, wait!” Dean leapt up from his chair and followed him out. “What the hell are you talking about?” He caught up to him in the hall, where they couldn’t be overheard. “Sam. Sam!”

The younger Winchester sighed, turned slowly, and faced him. “I’m not better, Dean. I thought I was but I’m not. I can feel it.”

He reached out to touch Dean, laying his hand flat on his face and his brother jumped at how hot his skin was.

“Sam, we just have to get this cure Kevin’s coming up.”

“And how much am I going to have to drink if it is demon’s blood?” Sam snapped. “Until my body is a vessel again perfect for Lucifer? Because we both know he is out there waiting to pounce.”

“We don’t know what this cure is going to take or what it will take, but Sam, it is better than watching you die for nothing.”

“We were doing this to close the Gates of Hell, Dean!” he shouted. “If we don’t then this is one more mission we’ve failed on!”

Dean took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Look, I get it. I do. You think all these trials, all of this, was a way of buying redemption. But Sam, if it is going to take your life, it’s not worth it. What good is a world without demons if you can’t be there to take peace from it? The world ends if we do this!”

Sam gave an almost watery chuckle as he walked off. “Least we could all find peace then.”

Dean stared after him and realized why Castiel had warned him about Sam doing something foolish. Whatever he had dreamed of, with Lethe and Lucifer and that strange Sheol, had somehow made him think twice on trusting Dean to figure out a cure. Had taken away that hope. 

The alarm system in the bunker suddenly began to bleep and both brothers turned towards the door. The lights inside were starting to flicker and Dean edgily looked at Sam. 

“Must be something outside. Probably Cas arguing with Meg again. I’ll take a look.”

“Not without me you don’t,” Dean muttered. 

~~

Naomi folded her arms over her chest and strode out one slow step at a time. Castiel and Meg backed into one another automatically, the angel just putting his shoulder before hers as he stared at his sister. Naomi gave him a dismissive glance, one with a strange hope glinting in its depths, before she stared at Meg thoughtfully.

“So.” She took another step and eyed the demon up and down. “You are the demon Castiel insisted on not killing months ago. The one due to birth an abomination.”

“That’s me,” Meg said lightly, teeth baring in a smile. “Who’re you?”

“Naomi.”

“Cute. What do you want?”

“We have been looking for you.” The other angels flanked her and Castiel reached back to keep Meg just a little behind him. “Since we all felt the call. Because you both had something to do with it.”

He frowned, confused but Naomi was staring at Meg again. Her eyes were wide. 

“Incredible. Was that what he meant?” she muttered. Her head shook and she lost the dreamy look. “By all accounts, we should have killed you for such blasphemy, demon, for the corruption of our brother. Or taken the child from you.”

Meg’s hand stole to her stomach protectively.

“It would be as it should be.”

The demon glared at her. “I’d snap that pretty neck first.”

Naomi gave her an almost appreciative grin. “Spoken like a true demon. I wonder at the attraction.” Her eyes darted to Castiel. “I do wonder.”

Castiel didn’t flinch. “What do you want?”

“Something has happened to our family. And I want to know what hand you had to play in it.” She snapped her fingers and three angels stepped forward to flank Meg and Castiel.

When the hatch door slammed open, another pair of angels disappeared and snatched the Winchesters before they moved more than a few feet from the door. The men were too stunned to struggle as the angels put them into headlocks and held them down. Dean recovered first, trying to get the upper hand by slamming his elbow into the stomach of one, while Sam struggled to slip free of the female angel holding him.

“Dean.” Castiel glanced over at him. “Don’t struggle. They won’t hurt you or Sam.”

"Feels like they might!” Dean choked out as the hold on his neck tightened.

"They won’t. Not when they need you both alive." He looked back at Naomi. “Don’t you?"

Her eyes glinted a little and she nodded. “But we could make them regret it.”

"Too late, sister," Dean muttered.

“You have no idea how hard it was to find you all,” Naomi said and she took a step towards Castiel and Meg. “Somehow, you and your demon managed to disappear off the map and if it wasn’t for us tracking this stupid car-.”

“Hey!” Dean snapped. 

“We wouldn’t have found the Winchesters either.” Naomi’s angel sword glinted as it fell to her hand. “So you will answer my question.”

Castiel looked at her and then around at the angels. “You think that threatening them is the only way?”

“Perhaps not just them.” The angel closest to Meg stepped forward. “But your demon perhaps?”

Castiel looked at the advancing angel, eyes almost glimmering with power.

“Back off. Let them go.” 

The demon and angel both jumped at the sheer power that rolled out of his voice. Castiel stared at Naomi and swept his arm to the side to push Meg behind him. The angels holding the Winchesters immediately dropped them and Dean smirked at one. Sam rolled his eyes and watched as Castiel left Meg to stand directly in front of Naomi. The angels looked at her nervously as her breathing quickened and her eyes widened.  Meg backed up towards Dean and Sam, and they all saw the lightning streak across the sky to crash into a tree nearby, destroying it. 

Dean whistled low as the blowing wind snapped around them. Naomi’s eyes shone with light and against the trees a pair of wings seemed to be growing out of her back as the lightning flashed.

Castiel didn’t move away and didn’t move to arm himself. 

“I won’t say it again.” He stepped forward again. “Back off,” he growled, voice so low that it was almost lost as the thunder rumbled overhead.

Castiel’s shoulders broadened out and the lightning that flashed across the sky highlighted a set of massive black wings in the shadows thrown on relief against the Winchesters and Meg. His face was brilliantly lit, his glowing blue eyes fixed only on the angels before him. Naomi watched the display, her eyes darting over his face in confusion. She could feel the power radiating off him as a second set of wings unfurled in the shadows as well. She knew as well as any what those could mean and she could feel it like a physical blow.

"You’ve changed," she whispered. "What have you done?"

"What I need to protect them." He took one slow, menacing step towards her. “Back off.”

Naomi snapped her fingers and the angels behind her stepped back to a further distance, no longer side-eyeing the Winchesters or Meg but standing like soldiers at a command. Castiel’s eyes, still glowing, went over them.

“Dean, Sam, go back inside,” he said.

“Cas, you sure?” Sam asked, not liking the odds. Castiel didn’t answer and Dean grabbed Sam.

“Think he’ll be fine, Sam, let’s go.” 

Castiel felt Meg step back behind him and with one eye on Naomi he turned to look at her. “Go.”

“And leave you alone? To face them? You’re nuts,” Meg muttered. Castiel quirked his head at her, feeling how protective she was, and then smiled.

When he snapped his fingers, the demon was zapped out of the area and he sighed. She’d be angry at him so forcibly removing her but she’d be safe.

“You’d guard a demon, but not your own family,” Naomi whispered. He let his power fade a little and sighed.

“I asked you for time.”

Naomi’s eyes were glimmering still. “What have you done, Castiel, with that time I gave you?” she whispered. “Our brothers, our sisters, our family! There are so many lost!”

“I tried to make it right.” 

“You failed, you cost our siblings their lives yet again! Do you know where they have gone?!? To the Lethe! They were taken from Heaven itself!” she shouted, voice nearly hysterical. He flinched. “For the cost of saving some demon and your humans!”

“There is more than that. The Cage was opened.”

“What?” Naomi, once so obedient to the Archangels, actually stepped forward. “Then Michael could…”

“Michael sought to hurt my friends.” He sighed. “I took Michael’s Grace unto me. There is only Lucifer left.”

All the angels stepped back, low hisses of hate and distrust coming from them. “Sacrilege,” one whispered.

“Lucifer has not been seen.”

Naomi gave him a dry laugh. “Lucifer? Michael? That is impossible.”

“Is it?” Castiel demanded. “When so many impossible things have happened just in the past month?”

“We have our orders,” she began. Castiel nodded.

“I know.” He waved his hand and the storm that had begun around them calmed. “And I have my cause. Let me help you.”

Naomi eyed him and then looked back at the others. They were nervous but also they were strong older soldiers keen to follow the strongest angel, and she knew that it was no longer her. They craved leadership desperately to give them some direction. Castiel saw it and took another step.

“Naomi.” His voice lowered. “Please. Help us find a cure for Sam Winchester. Help me protect them. If the Gates close then our Father’s creation is destroyed, but if we give these humans their chance to fix their world, then we are doing our Father’s will.”

“His Will.” Her laugh was bitter. “None of us know his will.”

Castiel’s eyes remained on her face. “You remember his orders to us? Before the Wars, before the Apocalypse that nearly happened.”

Something flickered in her eyes, a slight understanding, and then it was gone. “Did his orders mean you betraying us all for the sake of humans and demons?”

Castiel flinched but before he could answer she was gone, taking the angels with her. 

~~~

Linda followed her son into his room and calmly closed the door before turning to him. “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?” Kevin tossed the film reel on his cot and turned to face her.

“I know you’re hiding something. If-”

“Let it go, Mom, I can’t.” He threw a book on the already loaded table. “I can’t explain everything to you. I need you to trust me.”

She stared at him and the long moment hung between them. “So what do we do?” 

Kevin smiled. “We’re going to find the cure. Like I said, there’s more to these babies than just a way to close the Gates. A lot more.”

He held up the tablet. “We got a lot to research and not a lot of time to do it in.”

She sighed and nodded. “Fine. But I swear I’m not leaving you alone again. You get into too much trouble without me.”

~~

The Lethe had calmed itself after the sudden arrival of the angels. The waters no longer did more than beat in soft waves on the pristine white beaches and, deeper within, the forests and grassy hills provided an oddly serene safe place. The souls continued about their purification without concern to the strange creatures that wandered with them. They never really saw the angels or cared why they were there.

They didn’t care for anything.

They were doused so thoroughly in Lethe’s forgetfulness that they forgot why they should care. Demon souls, human souls… there was no instinct here. They were content to wander and feel the bathing warmth of Lethe.

Standing alone, Lucifer watched them all with barely controlled agitation. He needed to move, now more than ever.

Michael’s return, dead and just a natural essence now, had been bitter. Michael didn’t care about the Wars any longer, didn’t even care that Lucifer was thirsty for revenge on Castiel. He just smiled, patted him on the back, and said that he worried too much.

As if the only thing he cared about was staying here.

It was so unlike his Michael that Lucifer had stopped visiting him in the deeper interior of Lethe. He left the angels to their own devices and watched them struggle to understand this new existence. 

They were beings of faith and cause. To do nothing but stay still in one place was something too wrong for them to comprehend.

His brief visit with the seraphim had not gone well. They’d been repulsed by him still. Not one, whether they’d remembered him or not, could be bothered to listen to his words that they would be happy here as a family. Maybe they just needed time.

Wasn’t it time yet?

“Sheol,” Lucifer muttered, his power searching for the entity. She’d not made a single move towards ending this; there’d been no returning for Sam Winchester, no plans. Nothing. It had felt like years since they’d moved last. 

His revenge on Castiel would go nowhere if she didn’t release him to fight. Taking the entire world with him so that his family would realize how much better this place could be, removed from God’s hypocritical rules and forcing them to serve the humans as guards.

He found her in her gazebo, reclining on a divan and staring up at the false sun. The subtle flexes of her power made the air pulse around her and she had one hand in the air, as if tracing the beams of white light she was glowing with. Every now and then, the beams would strike a nearby soul and they would disappear to be reborn.

She was apparently hard at work though she looked nearly asleep.

“Why haven’t we moved yet?” he demanded as he stood over her and looked down at the entity. Her eyes opened and she wearily looked at him. There was no recognition in her bright gaze. Just a look of exhaustion and disinterest.

“Moved where?”

“Against my Father. To finish the trials and force Sam Winchester to…”

“Sam?” Her eyes half-closed. “Sam.”

The Archangel stared. “The boy. The Winchester!”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Her eyes closed and she stretched. “I’ve just been so busy.”

Lucifer sat beside her and reached out with his power. Her own felt a little subdued and didn’t crackle like it used to. Still far more powerful than his but she seemed less inclined to use it. There was an utter stillness about her he’d not seen since escaping the cage.

“Do you even remember why you released me? Do you remember me?”

She laughed. “Of course I do. Of course I know your name, it’s… it’s….” She blinked. “Hmm.”

Lucifer stared at her in horror. “You aren’t well. This is my Father’s doing. Is that why the demon Meg was…” He stared out, realizing just what God could have done using the demon and her unborn child. “I should have killed her.”

Sheol lurched herself off the couch and pinned him down to the ground before he could blink. Straddling his chest, she hissed in his face like an animal about to attack. “I may be fading slowly, Lucifer. But there is far more to me than what you see. Leave her be.”

“Why?”

“Because without her everything will fall apart. And I do mean everything. Not just what I planned but what God planned as well and the cost of that is very high.”

“But that abomination she’s carrying,” Lucifer nearly growled. “It is a cause of your fading.”

“Yes.”

“Then let me move. Force Sam Winchester to finish the trials. To bring this to an end.”

“And allow you revenge on Castiel?” Sheol’s grin turned sly. “You can be such a petty thing.” She arched her back, got off of him, and sat back on the divan. He watched her stretch out slowly as she lay on her stomach. “Do what you will.”

Lucifer stared at her as her eyes closed. “Really?”

“I’ll stop you if I need to. It will be rather entertaining to see you pit angels against demons, to see this Castiel struggle to fight you. Though I don’t think you will find it too easy for you to get to them. Sam Winchester is well guarded now and not just by his brother.”

She snapped her fingers and waved him away. Lucifer was stunned and confused by her disinterest in him and the plans they had once so carefully laid. How much had been done to her to make her nearly forget?

~~~

~~

_The water lapped around her ankles, soaking the hem of her dress while larger waves began to come towards her in white frothy curls. Cold water, far too cold, but she enjoyed the way her skin tingled because of it. It gave her some sensation._

_Tilting her head back, Meg stepped forward and walked until she was to her knees in the water. She continued to walk until the water rose to her waist, and then slowly began to rise around her neck, her feet no longer finding a place to stand. It was easier to swim now and she tread the water, ignoring the way the ice in the water burned her skin._

_A cracking sound close by made her turn mid-tread to see ice slowly forming around her. The water was moving just under the layer of ice and she reached out to touch the ice, finding it surprisingly warm to her fingers. Something pulled at her leg and she stopped treading immediately._

_It was easier to let the grip pull her under, deep into the water._

_Meg swam in the dark current, let it flow around her and wrap her in a fluid embrace. The water down here was warm and she even forgot the need to breathe. There was a comfort in being so gently rocked by the current and she smiled to herself. She was forgetting. All that pain, all that suffering, gone._

_Then she felt a tiny kick in her stomach and her eyes opened underwater._

_She’d been forgetting._

_She couldn’t forget._

_Hair swirling like a dark cloud around her, Meg opened her eyes and saw only darkness far below. There the water wasn’t green blue but black. It was like a gaping maw, a chasm opening up to swallow her. Whatever had pulled her under the surface began to draw her down and she struggled to kick out against the riptide._

_Something dark tangled around her feet and began to steadily pull at her. The comfort faded, the forgetfulness gone immediately to be replaced by fear. She screamed, swallowing lungfuls of water, and began to swim._

_Her feet kicked out, the pull no longer as strong and she began to surge upwards, nearing the surface. The ice had formed over the top and she slammed her fists into it repeatedly until it began to break. The water crested around her when finally she broke free of the ice overhead, the edges cracking loudly as she rose up in an arch. Gasping desperately for breath, she threw herself to the side and clung to the ice. She scrambled to find purchase, nails digging into the ice as she tried to pull herself out._

_It felt as if her lungs couldn’t get enough air fast enough._

_Skin frozen, she managed to pull herself further up and nearly slipped back into the water in surprise when a shadow passed over her. Her hands brushed something and she stopped struggling when she heard a soft whisper of her true name. Opening her eyes was too difficult; the light was too bright. Moaning in pain, she rested her head down on the ice and heaved for breath._

_Warm fingers brushed over her forehead and smoothed down her face. A familiar, loving touch that brought with it warmth and protection._

_She knew that touch._

_“Meg.” Castiel’s voice pulled at her and she dizzily opened her eyes._

_“Castiel?” she whispered and finally she looked up. Those blue eyes flicked over her and he smiled. He looked the exact same as always and he didn’t seem to notice the ice he was kneeling on. He was just staring at her._

_“I’m here.” His fingers drifted up to her cheek and caressed her. “I’m here.”_

_Meg closed her eyes gratefully as his touch soothed her. “I was forgetting…”_

_“I know.”_

_She leaned into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I need your help to get out of here.”_

_The caress didn’t stop as he leaned down, kissing the top of her head, his other hand coming up to stroke her hair. His voice though…._ _his voice dropped and made her realize that_ _something was off about the way he spoke next. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Cas?” Meg’s eyes opened again and  she looked up at him._

_The hand on her head suddenly pushed down, shoving her back under the water. Her nails dragged on ice and she screamed, choking on water as Castiel held her under the water. Through the rippling blurs all she saw was Castiel, staring down at her, his face stoney and uncaring._

_“You can forget.” Sheol’s low voice, a hum of comfort, slid around her._

**_“Meg.”_ **

_She screamed again, not caring that water filled her lungs as the angel continued to hold her under._

**_“Meg.”_ **

_But no matter how she fought, scraped her nails on his restraining hands, the ice continued to grow over her head and she couldn’t break free._

_As the water lapped over her head, where Castiel’s arm still held her down, she screamed his name in her mind as she began to drown._

_~~_

“Meg, Meg!” Castiel shook the demon hard as he held her down on the bed. He’d come into the safe-house just after Naomi left, only to find her on the floor, likely knocked out thanks to his zapping. He’d been terrified that he had actually hurt her but she’d seemed fine and she’d barely stirred when he had picked her up. Bringing her up to the loft to sleep it off had been easy until she had started to squirm and push at him. 

It wasn’t until she started screaming that he realized she was in the grips of an actual nightmare.

“Meg! Wake up!”

He held her face between his palms and tried to concentrate on her, feeling Nyx waking up as well. Inside Meg, that low throb of power began to actually pulse and he reached with one hand to push on her stomach. He tried to keep them both calm as he stroked Meg’s face as he called to her.

“Meg, I’m here. Wake up.”

The demon’s eyes opened quickly, and she began gasping for air as if she’d been drowning. Her eyes drooped a little and Castiel cupped her cheek as the dream threatened to pull her back under. 

“You’re fine.”

Shaky and disorientated, her fingers dove into her hair and pulled a little, the spark of pain seeming to orientate her. Groaning in pain, she closed her eyes again.

"Meg?" Castiel kept his voice soft and she turned her head towards him, eyes opening to reveal darkness. “What’s wrong?”

When she saw him, really saw him, he wasn’t ready for the way she leapt off the bed and nearly launched herself across the room away from him. There was a naked fear in her eyes that he had never seen before. She shook her head a few times and struggled to focus on him.

Finally, she relaxed and took a deep breath.

“I…” she stumbled and coughed, her throat dry from the screams.

Castiel’s eyes wandered over her, seeing the way her breathing remained jerky. “What were you dreaming about?”

She shook her head, trying to clear it from the force of the dream. “I…it’s not important. What happened with the angels?”

His head cocked to the side and he stood up from the bed, coming within inches of but not quite touching her. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“You think?” she muttered and he sighed. 

“Were you dreaming of Lethe?” Hesitantly, he touched her and felt a flash of cold and fear from the remanent of the dream. “I thought you hadn’t dreamt of it in a while.”

“Not that I tell you. But it felt real. Too real,” she whispered and the angel spread his fingers out on her cheek. She leaned into the touch, to the warmth of his vessel, and he realized that her voice was still croaking and hoarse. His thumb slid against her throat, bringing with it a slight push of power to heal the damage.

“Tell me.”

Meg sighed, eyes still shut. “I was drowning. It was something I thought was real.”

“It was just a dream,” he muttered, wondering at the fear.

“It felt real to me.” She pushed his hand away after a while and he followed her out of the bedroom. Meg was cagey again, made uncomfortable now by showing how vulnerable she’d been, and Castiel knew that the dream must have meant something more than just drowning to her. Demons wouldn’t die from that. 

He watched her walk into the nursery, flicking on the light. The sight of her there gave him a little bit of peace. But the anxiety and fear he could feel from Meg stole away even that comfort. He’d come expecting to find her at peace, not suffering.

Meg wasn’t sure what to think either. She hadn’t dreamt that vividly in weeks, not of Lethe, and Castiel had not been in those dreams for months. 

She moved over to the window and stared out over the overgrown field. Meg’s mind moved fast and then just as quickly settled on the angel who took a seat on the rocking chair in the corner. It was on the tip of her tongue to snap at him for zapping her here against her will. But when she turned and saw him sitting quiet and still, she couldn’t.

There wasn’t any point.

“I hate this place,” she whispered instead and he folded his hands on his lap, watching her with a steady gaze that reminded her of a statue. “I hate it.”

Castiel ran his eyes over the walls. “You seemed to enjoy it. Is it the paint?”

“It’s this whole existence. It is cold, damp, painful and I hate it,” she muttered, lashing out. Her power cracked the tiny night table and to his credit Castiel didn’t flinch, just watched. “I hate that every-time I move I can’t go anywhere without feeling like someone is about to slit my throat. That the world could end because of one wrong decision, that the minute this kid pops out that my life goes from complicated to truly fucked over…”

Castiel sighed and wisely held his ground while she stalked around the room as she rambled.

“It’s something I never wanted. I was happy just being a soldier. Having a cause, serving it. Death, torture, hellfire, those were the days. Now look at me. I’m some sort of freak even by demon standards!”

She lashed out again and a few books went flying off the shelves. Castiel sighed and stood up to pick them up. “You’re not a freak.”

When he turned away from the shelves, she was in front of him, a tiny demon who was incredibly intimidating. “I’m not a freak?” Meg gestured at her rounded belly. “Pregnant demon who dreams of another afterlife. With an angel for her baby daddy. Who decided, just for giggles, to side with a pair of hunters who would have loved to see her dead! What part of that is normal? Next thing you know I’m gonna sprout a tail and fangs, and have a sign that declares ‘freak’!”

He reminded himself not to smile at that image. For once it was hard not to.

“I’m a freak. All of us are freaks. Dean calls you guys Team Free Will. Team Freaks is more like it,” she snapped, more than ready to take him down with her.

“It’s a good thing we’ve met then,” he said and she stared at him. He smiled. “I would hate to be a lonely freak.”

The corner of her lips twitched into a smile but she schooled it back to a scowl. “Shut up.”

Castiel sighed and leaned back away from her. “Have you thought about staying here instead of going back to the bunker?”

“I hate the bunker too,” Meg grumbled irrationally. “I hate staying still and I hate having to run around. I hate that I want you around sometimes and I really hate that you keep looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

“Like you know some big secret I’m hiding and it makes you happy.” Meg folded her arms over her chest. Castiel sighed but knew it was safer not to say a thing. “Seriously, you get this smug look like I….” 

“Is this a hormonal situation? You seem more irrational than usual,” he interrupted. His mind was already preoccupied with trying to reconcile with the angels, and Meg’s tirade and nightmare just added to his worries. He knew he’d said something wrong when Meg’s eyes almost went black again. 

“Irrational?” Her voice was calm but deadly. 

Instincts he didn’t know he had warned him it was time to stop but he continued anyway, “It is just because I have understood that sometimes pregnancy makes females rather emotional and you do seem to be emotional. For you, that is.”

“Oh, you’re dead.”

His eyes widened as she grabbed him by his coat lapel and dragged him after her towards the bedroom.

“I- Wait, was… was that a flirtation?” he asked as he followed her.

“This time it is but you’re going to pay for that.”

“This may be a poor decision, considering the past hour or so. You are still a bit-,” he tried and Meg looked over her shoulder at him. He blinked and then nodded. “I see.”

“Good. Now shut up before you get yourself into more trouble.”

~~~

Kevin waited for Sam and Dean to finish their latest argument before he followed the younger Winchester through the archives. Sam was muttering to himself, occasional stumbling now and then and then overcorrecting and swearing as he went. Kevin tried to keep hidden, wanting to wait until he could at least get Sam where he wouldn’t feel intimidated by Dean’s presence as well.

When he followed him around a corner, he wasn’t ready for an arm suddenly latching around his throat and pinning him against the wall. He squeaked in surprise and stared up at Sam.

“Why are you following me?”

“Because we’re friends? And I technically live here too?” he tried weakly. Sam sighed and let him go. 

“You’re here to convince me too?”

Kevin remembered Chuck’s words about giving them a way to fight this sudden compulsion of Sam’s to end it all. Sam had been seduced by the idea of it all ending. He was in pain and no matter how much he’d fought, things always seemed to end up worse.

“Why won’t you let us try?” the prophet asked.

“Because maybe it’s just not worth it this time, okay?” He started to walk off and then turned back towards the prophet. “You’ve been in this for over a year, right?”

Kevin blinked and nodded.

“I’ve been in this massive puppet show all my life. You only got the Cliff Notes’ version of it all. And you think you can tell me what I should do?” Sam demanded. “My entire family has been manipulated since before I was born. I’ve had to lose everything I love and for what?”

He waved a hand.

“I’m sicker now than ever and all I have left is a brother who, though God I love him more than anyone, has such a problem trusting me that every turn I take is like the wrong one.” Sam leaned down towards him. “Maybe it is better to just end it.”

Kevin stared up at him. It wasn’t just Sam’s sickly glow to his eyes that was terrifying. It was how hopeless, even after all this time, he looked. He looked defeated.

“You can’t just decide what’s best for everyone, you can’t just take away whatever little control people actually have over themselves. We all have to have something we can control.”

“You think that?” Sam demanded.

“You do too. You’re just tired.”

"Look, I get what you’re saying, but no one would want to have control anymore. That is what Lethe is about. Peace. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Or were you looking for what you want to see?” Kevin followed the hunter as he stalked down towards the library. “What about everyone else?”

“What about them?”

"What about Nyx, Castiel and Meg’s baby?” He stumbled a bit over the name but knew Sam would understand. “What happens to her?"

"I… don’t know. She’d be there too I guess." Sam looked at him, confused. He hadn’t even thought about that.

"And she’d never know her father, or her mother, or herself, ever. You’d not even let her be born yet, when it is pretty damn clear she’s meant to be. She’d never know what a family is like. You know what that’s like, Sam. Imagine her never knowing.” Kevin poked him hard in the shoulder.

"She wouldn’t want to know, she’d be content, if that is how it works.”

"She deserves to know." The smaller prophet took a deep breath. “You better remember that if you want to end this world, you’re not just affecting your life or Dean’s. You’re taking billions with you. Can you play God, Sam, and keep your soul?”

Kevin shoved by him and Sam could only stare as he watched him leave.

“What the hell, Kevin?”

~~

There was a strange sort of comfort lying against her when he should be running out, going to his brothers and sisters, back to Dean and Sam. But there was a deeper need to stay still and try to think this all through. He’d spent so much time running blind into battle that he knew that for once he needed to stand still. 

  Lying face up with his head rested on her stomach, he felt her fingers card through his hair as Meg lay across the bed. Her fingers scratched over his scalp repeatedly and eventually he heard her sigh.  

“Is the reason you’re staying is because you think I’m going to run?” Meg asked suddenly, her voice vibrating through his ears. He rolled his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Maybe.” Her skin felt cold under his and he reached back to touch her knee and then her thigh. “I get the feeling that moments like these won’t happen for much longer.”

“You going to miss it? How cute,” Meg drawled caustically and he stroked her leg.

“I think you’ll miss it as well.”

“Mm.” Her fingers smoothed his hair down and he turned his head on the side to look at her. “Kind of nice, this not being on the run.”

“You never answered my question before. Are you staying here from now on?”

“If I don’t?”  Their eyes met and she rolled hers dramatically. “Right. Drag me back by my hair, right?”

“Vaguely occurred to me. You don’t seem to feel safe anywhere else. And we’re… drawing nearer.” The hand on her thigh ran down to touch her stomach, under his head, and he felt something shift inside of her. “She’s still quiet.”

“Seems like it.” Meg turned a little and he felt her fingers tighten in his hair when the baby kicked. “Only a few months left.”

“Two, by my count.” 

“Since when?” She thought it over. “Two and a half. Hell.”

He smiled and turned over to look at her face on.

“So what do we do?” Meg demanded as he leaned on her. “We never talked about that. Visitation rights, who pays child support, whatever.”

“We protect her. That is all we should worry about.”

“Not even knowing what she’s even here for?” Meg’s eyes half shut to watch him warily. “Blind faith in an angel.”

“And in a demon,” he countered. “Is that so terrible?”

“You have no idea, pretty boy, what I feel.”

He watched the chase of dark shadows over her skin and leaned up on his elbows over her.

“Something is wrong. You are quieter than usual.”

Meg’s eyes opened up a little more. “Just a thought how wrong this could all go.”

He sighed and rolled off of her, grabbed his shirt and pulling it back on as if to protect himself from her. “Meg.”

“What’s the worse that could happen, right?” She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to shift around. “Exploding light, dead demon, bleeding out, angels or demons ripping her out of me?” she muttered.

Appalled by her morbidness, Castiel looked over his shoulder at her and saw her staring at the wall opposite.

“Promise me you’ll protect her.” The softly spoken order made him blink. “Because it might make it easier if you promise me that if I-“

The angel sighed and shook his head. “You won’t. Don’t think it.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I won’t let anything happen. Not to you, to her, to the Winchesters.” He stared down at her. “ You have your cause. I have mine.”

Meg resolutely shut her eyes. “Sometimes causes get us killed, Cas.”

The bed dipped and she felt him slide up the bed to curl his body around hers.

“You need to have faith,” he said in her ear, arms tightening around her rounded waist.

She smirked almost sadly. “I’m not sure I have that much faith left, Castiel, that everything turns out rose-tinted. Hard to keep much hope around.”

His embrace actually tightened around her and she felt his mouth brush her earlobe. “Maybe you just need to find it again.”

Meg touched the hands clasped around her waist. “Maybe.”

~~~

_Weeks later…_

Chuck stared at his own reflection in the foyer mirror, fixing his collar and eyeing his own tired face. It had been a long stretch of weeks of sleeplessness and worry. Rumours of places disappearing off the face of the mouth, of demons and monsters, meant he’d had to write faster than he ever had. Now that it was done, it was all in the hands of his editor. Except for the complete ending. That was still his secret and he wasn’t ready to give it to her yet.

His editor was now on strict orders not to call him in the next few hours.

“But you just handed this manuscript in,” she’d snapped. They had known each other a long time, longer than anyone knew, and she sometimes acted as a ghostwriter as well for his online works. She already was worried that this ending he’d told her about was just going to raise more questions than answers.

Chuck sighed, took one last look in the mirror at his polished white shirt and dark slacks. It was such a change from his more usual bathrobes and sweat pants that he had to do a double take. With a glance at the time, he grabbed his bag of notebooks from the floor and headed out. He left the house without a backwards glance after he locked the door behind himself. The rain hadn’t ended for the past weeks, flooding the streets, but he ignored the way it soaked his shoes as he walked over the overgrown lawn.

It suited his mood perfectly.

“Since when do you get out?” Ned, a portly little man with an umbrella, was standing in his own yard. Clutching his newspaper as if he was afraid his neighbour was about to snatch it from him.

Chuck smiled as if he didn’t know his white shirt was being soaked to the skin. “Since today. See you around.”

If Ned thought it strange that Chuck was gone from his vision when he blinked, he hid it well. Lord knows, he thought, that Mr. Shurley had enough strange things happen at his house. The man was bound to be a little strange himself

~~~

Lucifer didn’t have much to think about Hell. It was a place. Not his home or even a place he loved to visit. It had been created out of pure spite, then used to punish him by sending him as far from God’s Light as possible. His own disgust with the place made it hard to want to stay. 

Since leaving the Lethe, he had come to its reality, watching the demons while remaining invisible, and he wondered why he bothered. Demons were raped human souls, essentially. No matter how evil they were as humans they could always be made worse. Stripped bare, flayed until perfected into darkness, but ultimately, human. And his open disgust for them wouldn’t allow for much sympathy.

If only God had listened to him! To see that these creatures were not worthy of the angels kneeling to them. To Lucifer, what they really were was no better than a demon.

He spent weeks watching the last Knight lead Hell, turn it inside out and begin to create more havoc than Azazel’s usurper had in years. Smart little demon; beautiful even. Fallen warriors always made for the best leaders.

Though when he heard the whispers about Crowley and Meg remaining untouchable, he’d gone to look for himself.

As impatient as he was, he was also ready to look for ways first to find his way to fulfilling his vengeance. Without Sheol, Sam Winchester was difficult to find and Meg turned out to be next to impossible. But Crowley? The former King was easy for an Archangel who knew how to look.

Lucifer wasn’t really certain what that demon was doing. He was walking the highways, teleporting now and then. After a large amount of people killed in Texas, he was now slaughtering a steady path up to Kansas. It was only because of the mayhem he was causing that Lucifer left him alone, amused by it.

Now he was topside once again, in an old factory in Michigan, watching Abaddon strip a soul bare. He stayed in the shadows, admiring her work.

“I want to hear all about the Winchesters,” she muttered as she carved a thin line up the Hunter’s chest. His heavyset body shuddered under the pressure of the knife. 

“I told you everything.”

“Nah uh. Where are they hiding?” She twisted hard. “Where are they going? What are they doing?”

“No one knows!” He gasped for breath as she dragged the knife along his arm, slowly severing the tendon at his armpit. His screams turned unholy and Lucifer grinned. “Please.”

“Just tell me what you know.”

“We… we haven’t been in contact, not since Garth told us to go underground. Most of us don’t even like them.”

“Don’t care about social hour for Hunters.” She leaned into the knife and tsked as his tendon gave way, his scream echoing. “Try. Again.”

“Rumour had it that Dean’s brother is sick. Dying. So they’re trying to find cures. They were… were at a Vampire hunt I think, in north Kansas.”

Abaddon tilted her head. “Hunting Vampires. Why?”

“It’s what we do, bitch,” the Hunter snarled and then howled as she leaned on the blade. “I told you all I knew!” 

“Clever boy.” She tapped her finger on his cheek. “But did you really think that was going to save you?”

His screams grew louder and louder as she used the knife to torture out more information from him, about a man named Garth and the network of Hunters still in the central States. Considering how long it took her, her patience was admirable. Watching from the shadows still, Lucifer picked at his teeth thoughtfully. Clever Knight. 

When she sliced through the hunter’s throat at last, she was breathing hard in excitement, tongue flicking out to trace her stained lips. A demon close by, who’d been guarding her, stepped forward. Abaddon tilted her head as she looked at the hunter’s body. 

“Take off his head. I want you to send it to this Garth he gave me an address for.”

“You want that hunter dead too?”

“No… he might be useful if the Winchesters trust him. I just want to frighten this little Hunter family a little.”

The demon nodded and grabbed up the corpse to get to work. The Queen watched him leave before taking down her red hair and ruffling it a little.

“Delicious.”

“You enjoy your work,” Lucifer said finally and watched her spin. Her eyes went black and he smirked as he stepped out from the shadow. There was only a slight hesitation before she truly saw what he was behind the vessel’s face.

“Father.” Like all Knights before her, she dropped to her knees. “My Father.”

He did like this kneeling business already. “Loyal Abaddon. Ruling suits you.”

“I have not seen you since… since the first of us!” She was breathy in awe and he walked around her. “I knew you walked the Earth but there has been no sign of you for weeks!”

“I’ve kept it that way.” He reached down to help her up and before she could move he cupped her face in his hands. “You have been a busy bee, haven’t you?”

“In your name,” she whispered, almost girlishly excited. Then the excitement left and she squared up to stand like a soldier ready to command. “What is your will?”

Lucifer was already delighted with her.

“So loyal. Nothing like your little sister.” He watched the anger pass over her face. “So you’ve seen her.”

“She’s betrayed us all. For an angel.”

“Things happen,” he said indulgently, though he found her hesitant dislike interesting. “I need her though. And the angel Castiel, but only when we find Sam Winchester. Where he and his brother go, Castiel is sure to follow. I am ordering you to follow my command.”

“I am at your service.”

“Excellent.” He smiled. “That is exactly what I wanted to hear but this will be fun for you I think.”

~~~

The Impala roared down the highway, Dean checking in the rearview as he gunned it faster. The faster he put that burning house behind them, the better. Sam was cradling his broken arm, gasping for breath as he tried to stifle his pain. The blood dripping from Dean’s forehead made it hard for him to see the highway signs that flew by.

“You see them?” Sam asked, reaching under the seat to find an emergency bottle of whiskey Dean liked to stash there. Using his teeth, he unscrewed it, spat out the cap, and then downed half the bottle to cope with the searing pain in his arm.

“Nope. Jesus, that was a close one.” Dean swerved to miss a pothole and Sam moaned in pain. “You okay?”

“Just great. Broken arm is fun.” Sam took another gulp. “Why the hell was that full nest? Garth’s intel said it was just a pair.”

“No clue. And I don’t even want to know how an Alpha was hiding from us all this time.”

“She was an old one, for sure.” Sam glanced at him. “You’re hurt.”

“We just got to get to a motel room, see if I can set that arm for you.” 

Sam hissed and adjusted his arm as he handed Dean the bottle. His brother splashed it on his cut arm and groaned a little at the pain. “That monster… she was a bit… strong, don’t you think?”

“Amped up yeah. Who knows why? Bigger things to worry about. I told you that you should have stayed home!”

“And leave you to get killed? Yeah, that’s real smart. We were hunting for demons and instead we got dragged into vamps. Don’t start blaming this on me!”

A loud siren shrieked and Dean checked his rearview. “Oh shit,” he whispered, seeing the police lights. Cursing under his breath, he braked hard onto the side of the road.

Sam eyed him. 

“Not a word, Sam. I’ll do the talking.”

“Oh that’s going smooth things over I bet,” Sam muttered as Dean rolled down his window. 

A state trooper leaned down, shining a flashlight in his face. “Going a bit fast, weren’t you?” he asked in a slow voice. “License and registration.”

“Uh, look, officer, we’re real sorry. Just got chatting, you know how it is,” Dean said, trying to hide his hurt arm as he handed over his license. 

“So, tell me. What are you boys doing this far out, middle of the night? Driving 40 over the limit.”

“Getting’ the hell out of dodge, sir,” Dean said and Sam reached over to poke him. “We had to get back to our… our uh… wives.”

“I bet.” The light shifted and shone on the bottle still tucked between Dean’s legs. The trooper tossed the wallet back on the dash. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He leaned his forearms on the car door and grinned a yellow-stained grin. “I’ve been waiting for you boys all night, Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s eyes widened as the trooper reached in and ripped him out of the car through the open window. 

“Dean!” Sam shouted, struggling to get his arm to rights so he could get out of the car. He turned around just in time for his window to crash in and two large hands grabbed his coat, pulling him out through the window as well. He was too far gone to fight as his head was wrenched back, a boot pinning him to the ground as another state trooper stood over him.

“Well, hello, Sam. What’s a pretty boy like you doing out at a time like this, and with such a bad boy as your date?” the trooper asked, eyes clicking to black. Sam struggled to focus as the trooper leaned down and traced a meaty finger over his neck. “Should chop off a few of your limbs this time, see how you like it.”

“Abaddon,” he gasped, feeling her power crack around him.

The trooper’s grin was an eerie similarity to the red haired woman he remembered. “Hi.”

“Bitch,” Dean shouted as he was thrown against the car hood by the other demon. Sam was yanked up and pinned down beside him, Abaddon bouncing up before them with a speed that belied the bulky meatsuit.

“I like playing dress up sometimes. It’s so… freeing. Gives me perspective.” She sat on Sam’s chest and listened to his howl of pain as a knee squished his broken arm. “So. I’ve been looking for you both. Thank Lucifer that those vamps felt like playing along in return for that Alpha being given back to them.”

“That was you who called us? Not Garth,” Sam gasped and she smiled. “Of course.”

“State trooper? Pulling us over? If you’re trying to be original in finding ways to kill us, you got some work to do,” Dean said, struggling against the demon holding him down.

“Killing you?” The black eyes blinked almost owlishly at Dean. “Eventually. I have a whole other reason for this, something fun. But I definitely don’t need you to be able to talk.”

She nodded at the other demon. “Cut out his tongue. Slowly.”

Sam tried to struggle under the demon’s weight but her power crushed down on him. Abaddon leaned down again, resting both arms on his shoulders and cocking the trooper’s head at him. 

“You know, my father wants me to spare you, Sam.” She leaned further and he smelled cigarettes on her breath, the male vessel somehow making the demon inside seem even more threatening. “But your pretty brother? He can be killed. He’s not important anymore, and definitely not now.”

Sam kept his eyes on her as Dean screamed loudly, body rolling around on the car hood beside him. The demon chuckled and Dean’s screams turned muffled and pained.

“He said you knew what you had to do, to end all this suffering. All this pain. And you want to, right? Can you imagine if Dean is dragged to Hell? All the pain I’ll put him through personally. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Sam whispered. “Slow.”

Abaddon hissed and slammed her hand down onto his broken arm, twisting hard. He screamed as the bone was forcibly pulled through his arm a bit further.

“Oo, I just get the tingles when you talk like that. All in the best places.” The trooper’s tongue flicked out and tasted the blood on his face. Sam felt his stomach knot in revulsion as he felt the chapped lips press against his ear. “Yes or no, you’re going to serve my father in some way, Sam. Whether you know it or not.”

Dean’s garbled screams took on another pitch as the demon on his own chest sat up, a recognizable word managing to get around his ruined tongue. He groaned and turned his head, a weak moan fluttering out of him. Sam immediately realized what he was doing and spoke fast, hoping that for once the angel would listen,

“Castiel. Help us.”

Hearing the soft prayer, Abaddon grinned and winked at Sam. “Just remember how bad it can all hurt, Sammy boy.”

The wind picked up around them and Abaddon slowly climbed off Sam. Before the other demon could follow suit, he was yanked off of Dean and turned about. Castiel slammed his palm down onto his head and burned the demon out, his face lit up with power and rage. Abaddon watched the display almost hungrily, grinning at the angel.

Castiel dropped the corpse to the ground and turned to face her.

“You dare,” he began.

“That’s me. Regular old me is just so… entertaining but I like this cop thing, don’t you? Bit more blasphemous, being all justice driven.” Castiel’s hand lifted, white light pooling in his palm and she winked. “Give Meg my love. I’ll be ripping her heart out soon enough.”

Before he could move, her head tilted back and black smoke shot out of the demon. Castiel kept one hand on Dean’s shoulder as the hunter slipped to the ground, his eyes never leaving the smoke billowing to the sky. With his half-learned power, he could guess he could stop her.

But something troubled him enough to let her go.

Sam groaned and slipped off the car just as the trooper collapsed to the ground, now without a demon to keep him awake. “What the hell?” he whispered.

Castiel blinked at him. “You’re injured.” He looked down at Dean. “Why would you stop to talk to a demon?”

Dean’s mouth was pouring out blood but between pained moans he managed to get a half-assed glare levelled at the angel.

“She tricked us. We were… we just came back from a hunt so we weren’t thinking,” Sam managed, holding his arm close as he kneeled down before Dean.

“She’s getting bolder than ever,” Castiel said and he shook his head, crouching down. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over Dean’s cheek and healed him. Dean felt the regrowth of his ruined tongue and choked a little, spitting up blood. Castiel squinted at him and then turned to Sam, holding his arm firmly. Sam felt a flicker of pain as Castiel healed him but the angel let him go just as the bone repaired perfectly.

“We called for you at the vampire nest,” Dean finally managed around his numb tongue.

“I’m sorry, I only heard your call just now.” Castiel stood up and looked around.

“Just now? Where were you? Cas, it’s been over a month and nothing has happened. We couldn’t find a damn demon anywhere. Now, suddenly, the demons show up. We saw you just a few days ago and you said you were just looking for the other angels and doing research. How busy could you be?” Dean snapped, more upset that he’d been taken off guard than he was with his friend.

Castiel shook his head. “I was busy.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but Sam gave him a warning look. “All right,” Dean muttered instead. “All right. Look. We’re sitting ducks out here. And we can’t lead her back to the bunker. Kevin’s there. Doing… whatever it is he does.”

“I’ll meet you several miles up the road. There’s a town there. I need to check something first.” 

He was gone before Dean could even think to protest and he looked at Sam. “I’m really hating this.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “Me too.”

~~

“So how much vampire blood?” Linda asked her son as she looked up from the notes. She was busy drawing chalk lines on the wood table and trying to measure ingredients as well.

“Four drops.” He was carefully measuring out honey as well and when it was in the brass goblet he licked the spoon without thinking.

“That’s disgusting,” his mother grumbled as she finished and grabbed the vial.

“Why?”

“You didn’t even sterilize it. That had demon blood on it, remember?”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “I’m a grown man.”

“Sure you are. You’re grown up when I say you are and I am your mother, remember?” she snapped. She ignored another eye roll. “You sure you have it right this time.”

“Yep.”

“Good. I hate experimenting on these things.”

“Whatever.” Kevin grabbed the glass jars across from them. They contained two cockroaches. The one was discoloured, fumigated to be weak so only its one antenna would move. The other was scurrying all over the jar. 

“So Sam doesn’t want to drink demons blood. We got to find another way,” he was muttering to himself and Linda let him go on. “Cas got us that eyes of a seer, right?”

“Yeah, and I don’t think I want to know how,” she answered, handing him them. 

Reciting the spell he’d haphazardly put together, one pulled from things he read in the demon tablet as a strange sub note, he tossed all the ingredients into the goblet and watched it turn a strange milky white. It swirled as the magic he was struggling to recite began to actually work and he nodded to his mother.

Using tweezers, she gingerly put both cockroaches into the liquid as he continued the spell. There was a bright spark of light and then the liquid stopped bubbling over. The roaches were coated in the liquid, having ingested a little bit of it, and she set them both back in one of the containers. As they watched, the sick roach began to actually move equally as fast as the other one. The discoloured shell turned normal. 

“What did we just do?” Linda asked.

Kevin grinned a little wildly. “I think we just found one way to help Sam.”

“Provided it works on humans and not just cockroaches,” she said dryly as both roaches began to almost race each other inside the glass. Perfectly healthy for roaches, Linda figured.

“Like we have so many other options,” Kevin pointed out. It had been a long time since they had anything approaching success. “We’re going to do it a few more times and see if this wasn’t just a fluke.”

~~

Castiel stood outside the bunker, eyes narrowed in thought. The Trans were safe, as they always were now that they had guards. The angels were standing close by, as they had been since that night he had revealed what he had done to Michael. They were waiting for a sign, waiting for something, though he wasn’t sure what. None of them moved towards him until he raised his hand.

Naomi appeared first, blue eyes narrowed. “We are guarding the prophet,” she declared as if it wasn’t obvious.

“And who is guarding Heaven?” he countered. Her jaw jutted out and she looked away. “Dean and Sam were attacked by demons.”

“A daily occurrence.”

“The Queen ripped out Dean’s tongue. That’s not ordinary. She wants them alive though for something.” He took a step towards her. “I want you to guard this bunker. I will take them elsewhere.”

“You’re giving me an order?” Naomi snapped incredulously and Castiel nodded. He could see her internal struggle. Her want to obey and her want to kill him. 

“This is more than our wars with each other. We need to stay together if the demons are banding together.”

“So says the angel who spends his nights with one.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t answer. He had no urge to deny it. Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. 

“We will make sure no harm comes to Kevin Tran.”

Castiel nodded thankfully and disappeared.

Watching them thoughtfully from the hillside, Crowley sat down slowly and crossed his legs, hungrily searching for a way in. He continued to mumble to himself, mind torn between different worlds. 

He didn’t have to move yet. Not yet.

~~~~~

~~~~

Chuck walked through the low clearing, one of the old graveyards left from the Civil War, and dropped his bag to the ground by one of the markers. He sucked in a deep breath and looked around. The trees seemed to shift on their own, forming a block of brush and leaves to keep anyone else from entering. Overhead, the thunderclouds continued to roll in, flickering with heat lightning. 

Closing his eyes, he spread his arms out to the side.

“Sister.” Nothing answered him but he didn’t raise his voice. He swallowed nervously instead and tilted his head back. “Sheol.”

Something shifted in the air and he opened his eyes to see her standing only feet away. Chuck blinked and put his arms down. Dressed in black couture, she was both ethereal and impossibly sad. Her face was half hidden by the black netted veil and her posture was stiff, her gloved fingers clenched into fists.

“The arrogance of you,” she whispered. “Calling on me like this.”

“I wanted to see you.” He looked around. “On more neutral ground.”

“A graveyard? How morbid and yet how you.” She moved towards him until only few inches separated them. Chuck let himself stare at her and she stared back critically. “You shaved. Dressed even.”

“You dressed in black. I was used to seeing you in white.”

“Yes, well. It seems I’ve become a shadow of my former self,” Sheol said dryly. “So the change in scheme seemed appropriate.”

“There was no other way, sister,” he whispered and her red mouth parted in a smirk.

“There is always another way. You just were too frightened to take it in the beginning.” There was something off in her banter and Chuck knew that the tired, disinterested strained tone of voice was a sign. 

“You could have simply asked.”

“And you would have said no. You forget, brother, how well I know you.” She slowly took off her black gloves and dropped them, her veiled cap following. They disappeared before they hit the ground and he had the feeling it was like a fighter about to attack. For once he did not feel exposed and overwhelmed by her and he wondered if she was doing it deliberately.

“I will not let you harm this world.”

“I would bring it peace. And you know that,” she said, poking him in the chest. He caught her wrist and held it.

“We created this world for the sake of letting these creations live their own lives. Why couldn’t you just leave it be? We both agreed to you having Lethe to give you purpose while the contracts ran their real course.”

Sheol noticed the change in him as well. He’d lost the facade of the absent-minded writer. 

“Do you have any idea how much a burden you put on me?” she demanded, voice low. “I cared for the souls you couldn’t be bothered to let into Heaven or Hell. I bathed them. I purified them so they could return. Often times they came right back to me because you left the angels in charge when they needed your guidance. I only had Death as an occasional companion, while you… you were allowed to forget. Everything. You could not be bothered with the mess you created.”

Chuck closed his eyes and felt her tug on her trapped wrist but he didn’t let her go. “We can’t punish them for what fell apart between us all. They are still children compared to us.”

His fingers slid down her arm then up it, brushing her neck. Sheol’s head tilted back at him and she gave him a condescending smirk.

“So what are we going to do? You found a way to… to block me. You thought you were being clever.”

Chuck didn’t answer immediately, fingers going up her neck to cup her cheek. But he realized the even deeper problem. It wasn’t just her anger and her disappointment in him.

“You were lonely.”

“I lost my family because of this! All of us, separated and barely able to stand each other. I had a cause corrupted by your incompetence in the end,” she spat out but her tired voice lacked any venom. “We had an agreement. I merely accelerated it.”

“Knowing I could push back.”

She suddenly smiled. “Hoping you might.”

He blinked and when she stepped back the hand on her neck reached into her red hair. So she stepped forward instead so they were closer than they had been months before. 

“I’m sorry.”

Sheol’s smirk was tight but actually amused. “No, you’re not.”

Unable to help it, he smiled back at her. She continued to stare at him, her true nature showing behind her vessel eyes and his own glimmered back at her. His eyes dropped to her mouth, noticing the tight lines where too much exhaustion was starting to wear on her vessel, much like how his own looked. Like Death, she was the only one who could understand the burden he’d taken, and was the only one who had dared to force him to wake up. His fingers stroked her skin thoughtfully as he looked back up at her. Sheol’s eyes were wary, watchful, as she read the emotion plain on his face.

"You may live to regret this," she muttered, arching an eyebrow. Chuck smiled again, seeing the interest in her expression.

“I might.”

They met halfway, her mouth bruising his the instant their lips met. He tightened his fingers in her hair as she kissed him back and felt her fingers slid under the collar of his shirt, arms going over his shoulders to bring him closer into her. Her body notched up against his and he shuddered at the comfort and warmth she brought with her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he deepened the kiss and for the first time in years he felt close to what he really was. He felt content.

~~~

~~

The safe house almost repelled him, due to his frustration and anger, but Castiel took a deep breath and stood outside the door, calming himself. The wards made a crackling sound as they recognized his presence and he walked through the door. The lights were low, books scattered all over the floor and the couch she’d been sleeping on was empty. He sighed, shaking his head at the mess of blankets.

Sometimes he wondered if she did it deliberately.

“Meg?” he called out. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come back to find her gone. She was restless enough even when he was there.

He heard a clatter out on the rear porch and zapped himself there instead of waiting.

The demon sat on the back steps, dark hair waving in the wind. Meg was testing her power, like she always did, causing the flowers in the garden to die and then snapping them back to life. Castiel watched covertly before slowly walking towards her, stopping to lean against the railing post. Her head tilted a little and he saw her eyes catch sight of him.

“Clarence. What’s the word?”

“Abaddon attacked them.”

“Figured.” She sighed and shook her head. “Hell’s been quiet enough.”

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked. 

"Hard to sleep when the guardian angel who acts as my body pillow goes missing," Meg answered. 

Castiel stared at her profile thoughtfully. He’d left so fast that he was sure she’d never miss him. But apparently she had. “Were there more nightmares?”

“I always have nightmares, Cas.” She sat up straighter and pressed her hand to the small of her back. “Brothers Dumber got hit hard?”

“They’re waiting for us. I think I should to tell them.”

“Tell them about what?” She gestured at her stomach, half hidden by the heavy coat she wore. “They know about Nyx.”

“Tell them that we’ve been helping Kevin find a cure for Sam. That you have an idea.”

“Ah-ah. You have been helping. I’ve just been watching and giving some input,” the demon pointed out. Castiel sighed and took a seat beside her. Gently, he held out his hand and wrapped it around hers.

Meg unconsciously leaned into him. “Almost time, eh?”

“Yes.” He looked up at the night sky, knowing she wasn’t talking about the Winchesters anymore.

“Can’t say I’m complaining. The back aches, the eating a lot, the fact that I can’t move fast? I won’t miss that.” She chewed into her lower lip thoughtfully. “I’ve been missing the sex though.”

“Well.” Castiel smirked a little in memory. “You did try to stay rather inventive until it was too uncomfortable for you.”

“So not proud of admitting defeat about that either,” the demon muttered. Castiel looked at her. 

“You miss it that much?”

“It was never disappointing. What, you don’t miss it?”

“I’m an angel. For me, sex is something that I never thought to need. The act itself is nice.”

“Nice?” Meg parroted incredulously. 

“More than nice. Indescribable,” he admitted, earning a smug grin from her. “But I find it equally as comforting to be with you even without it.”

The demon stared at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.” 

Meg shook her head. “You are something else, feathers.”

“I know.” He sighed. “You’re not feeling any different?”

“No different than the last time you asked,” she said irritably. “Just… feel full and heavy. Like I swallowed the kid instead of getting her the fun way.”

“Does this mean you’re not hungry?”

“Starving.” She perked up. “Where’d you say you sent them?”

~~~ 

Dean sighed as he looked around the midnight diner. Typical Cas. The diner wasn’t remotely familiar but he was hungry enough to ignore it. Through the window he could see Sam closing up the Impala and pausing to check his phone messages. He hadn’t wanted to talk but Dean had seen the feverish glint in his eyes. They hadn’t spoken about the trials, about the slow drain on Sam’s body, in days.

Whatever was on his brother’s mind, Dean was determined to find out once Castiel let him know what was going on with the demons.

“Oh great. When I think I want to pop out for dinner, Cas finds me you and Gigantor instead,” Meg’s voice drawled from the side of the table and Dean turned, ready to insult her back. He jumped a little at the sight of her and stared openly. The waitress going by took her order and then tiredly continued on.

Dean was still staring when Meg looked at him. He pointed rudely at her belly. 

“Whoa, what did you do? Swallow a watermelon?” 

The demon glared at him. “Shut it.”

Dean reminded himself not to laugh as he watched her slowly maneuver into a chair. Meg would tear out his throat for it but it was tempting.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel demanded as he appeared in a chair beside her. Dean gestured at Meg and the angel looked at her. He was so used to the sight of her that he forgot that Dean wouldn’t have seen her in weeks. She’d finally given up her tighter shirts for men’s button down shirts but even that couldn’t hide the very noticeable, large swell to her stomach. The demon was uncomfortable enough that she had to keep shifting around on the seat.

"She’s looking a little.…"

"Pregnant?" she offered lamely. Castiel sighed.

"If he hadn’t figured it out by now then…”

"I’m not dumb, Cas. Come on." Dean gestured at her as the waitress delivered a few cups of coffee. "She’s just sort of ballooned."

"Are you saying I’m fat?" Meg asked defensively and the hunter put his hands in the air. Castiel slid his hand over her thigh to keep her calm and she relaxed under his touch a little. Sam came in and slumped down beside his brother. His eyes fixed on Meg.

"Whoa, you are looking…" One look at the demon’s ferocious scowl made him swallow down the words. "Nice."

"Funny how one brother gets the brains and the other gets," Meg paused and looked at Dean, "What did you get anyway?"

He glared at her but it lacked any real anger. The shaky truce they had had made the shared insults so frequent that neither was bothered by each other much.

"So." Castiel nervously looked at Meg and then back at the brothers. 

“Where to start, right?’ Dean asked.

“Abaddon’s on the move. All the demons have been waging war on hunters, and there are a lot of those hunters on the loose. You two got hit by her, Sam is dying and likely wanting to end the world, and Dean is still clueless.” The demon rattled it off, ignoring the three matching glares she got for it. “Close enough?”

“Subtle,” Sam grumbled. “You should tell go around telling kids there’s no Santa too.”

“Oh Sam, that’s my favourite past time,” she said with a morbid grin. Castiel sighed and looked at her. “What?” She leaned back and all three noticed how she could visibly rest her hands on her stomach now.

“Anyway.” Castiel looked at Sam. “I’ve been working with Kevin, while you and Dean were hunting.”

“What?” Dean blinked. “That’s what you were doing when I kept calling?”

“What else would I be doing?” Castiel asked, confused. Dean’s eyes darted to Meg and she grinned again.

“Don’t worry, he was doing that too.”

“Ugh, there goes my appetite,” Dean muttered. Sam looked livid and he wisely kept going. “Doing what with Kevin?”

“A type of temporary cure for Sam. It involved blood from an angelic vessel and a demon at first.”

“So… you?” Sam looked at Meg and she shook her head. “Another demon?”

“Yep. Wasn’t easy to find but since I’m hot topic to Abaddon now, not hard to act as bait for any demon trying to get in good with her.”

“We’re not sure it will work but it might help keep your symptoms at bay,” Castiel finished before they could ask more questions about something he hadn’t liked doing in the first place.

“You didn’t ask if I wanted this,” Sam said tightly. Meg stared at him calmly.

“I just assumed a Winchester would keep fighting rather than giving up.”

The calm way she said it only made the insult more painful. It hit him hard enough that he stood up abruptly. He made to say something but looking at Meg’s impassive face and Castiel’s own warning glare, he just waved his hand and walked off, ignoring Dean’s impatient plead to sit down.

“Awesome,” Dean said lamely and turned around to face Meg as his brother went outside. “You had to, huh?”

Her eyes wandered back to him. “Someone has to wake your brother up. You really don’t want it to be me but if you don’t step up, I’ll give him a reality check he won’t like.”

There was something vague in the way she said it. Cold and yet concerned. But then the feeling was gone as the waitress put down a pile of pancakes in front of the demon. She began to eat hungrily, not bothering to make conversation with either the angel or human. Castiel just sat silently, apparently lost in his own thoughts about the angels.

Dean continued to nurse his coffee, keeping one eye on Sam in the Impala. His brother was sulking, no better word for it, but he knew it was better to leave him alone.

Until he noticed the stoplights starting to flick repeatedly, the interior lights of the diner following suit.

Meg dropped her fork and Castiel straightened up. “That’s no demon.”

Dean looked at the angel. “What are you talking about?”

The angel was gone and Meg stood up awkwardly, peering out the window. Dean looked as well.

“Sam!” He shoved back his chair and ran for the door when he saw that Castiel was at the Impala looking into its empty interior. Meg sighed and made her way to the door, ignoring the waitress. When she left the diner, the wind picked up her hair and blew it around her. The air felt hot, as if a storm was coming, and the lights stopped blinking on and off.

“Weird,” she muttered, wrapping her arms tighter around her body as she followed Dean down to the Impala. The hunter was frantic, hands in his hair as he stared down at his unconscious brother. Sam’s eyes were staring sightlessly at the roof of the car, slumped over on the front seats.

“What the hell! He was okay not ten seconds ago!” Dean shouted at the angel and demon, as if it was their fault. Meg sighed and tiredly rubbed at her back. The slight squeeze she suddenly felt low in her womb made her wrinkle her nose. It didn’t hurt. It was just… there. 

Castiel backed away. “I can feel him. He’s in there. But trapped.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean demanded, bending beside Sam in the car. “Sam? Sammy!”

He went so far as to slap him across the face but there was no response. His skin was hot to touch and clammy.

“We need to get out of here,” Castiel muttered, staring up at the lights which were flickering again. “Something is using power here and it isn’t me.”

“Heal him!”

Meg sighed and Castiel shook his head, reaching down to brush his hands over Sam’s face. He yanked his hand back and stared in surprise at the Winchester. 

“I can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean? You’re an angel!” Dean’s voice was nearly hysterical as he shook his brother. “Sam!”

“I can’t heal him because he’s not sick. Get him in the backseat,” Castiel ordered. “I’ll try to work on him but we need to get out of here fast. Meg, give Dean directions to the safe house. I’ll need to focus.”

“Safe what?” Dean tried but the angel was already moving Sam into the backseat, propping him up. When he turned to face Meg, the demon was scowling.

“Great. I always wanted to have more girl chat with Deano,” she muttered. “Come on. Cas will fix up your baby bro so he’s not catatonic.”

“Going to explain how?” 

“He’s got a power boost, Dean. How do you think?” Meg demanded as she yanked open the passenger door of the Impala and dropped in. Dean made to argue, wanting to, but one look at Sam’s unconscious face made him realize how exposed they all were. “Come on. We’re sitting ducks here and we really need to get out if something is coming for Sam, comprendre?”

Dean banged his hand on the roof of the car and then yanked open the door. “He better not be hurt, that’s all I’m saying,” he said to no one at all. Meg eyed him and settled down deeper into her seat, closing her eyes to his worried muttering.

~~

~

Sam was yanked through what felt like dimension after dimension, reality warping around him. Everything ached and burned at his skin and he put his head in his hands to try to stop the pain. He felt like screaming for Dean, had screamed for him when something had pulled him out of the Impala. Not his body. His soul.

It didn’t feel like a dream. He felt like he was being dragged through Hell’s fire again.

“You are a hard man to find, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes opened to see Lucifer squatting just before him, head tilted on the side. A quick glance around revealed a beach with waves beating at the shores. The sun was warm and the water cool as it touched his bare feet.

_Lethe._

“Oh God.”

“Not quite. God doesn’t love you, Sam. Otherwise he’d be here, saving you.” Lucifer gave a rueful smile. “But me? I care. I care a lot.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, we never did get to finish our deal, Sam. I think you’ve had more than enough time to think this all over.” Lucifer sat cross-legged across from him. “So. What do you think?”

“About what?” Only aware of his aching head and even worse, his burning skin, Sam gave the Archangel a weary look. 

“Bringing peace to our families. Surrounding them in this… this beauty.”

“Ending the world.”

“The world’s on its last legs anyway. We’re just speeding along the process.” Lucifer drew a devil’s fork in the sand. “Have to admit, has the world gotten any better since you saved it from the Apocalypse?”

Sam kept his mouth shut, trying to keep from feeling that strange warmth Lethe was already surrounding him with.

“It’s not. You’re fighting just as hard, just as much at a lost cause, as you were before. It is kind of getting redundant, really.” Lucifer propped his head up on his hand. “Think about it. One simple little trial to end and boom. Lethe comes to your world.”

“Meg says it destroys everything,” Sam whispered.

“Meg? A demon?” Lucifer snorted. “Right. Trust the demon. That’s been such a good idea in the past for you.”

Sam stared at him. “What’s in it for you?”

“Me?” Lucifer blinked. “I get what I always wanted. My family.”

“Dead humans,” Sam whispered, suddenly feeling like it was too clear. “You’d get rid of the humans.”

“You all get to be in the Lethe,” Lucifer tried but Sam was remembering Meg’s words about Lethe from months before. 

“They wouldn’t even know what they are. All those people. Families.”

“Only family that matters is Dean, remember?” Lucifer said, voice a seductive lull. “Dean would be…

Kevin’s angry words, pointing out that lives like Castiel’s daughter’s, like the lives of all the children he had helped save, would be gone. There would be no choice.

“There’d be no freedom,” he whispered. “They lose themselves.”

“There’s a type of freedom if you let there be,” Lucifer snapped. “We need to act now, Sam, I need to act now. With your help.”

Sam stared at him.

_“Trust me now. We’ll get through this but I need you, Sam. I don’t care about God. But what we do is save people. That is who we are. We do it together.”_

Dean’s voice echoed through his head, pulling at him and bringing him back to balance. 

Not Lucifer’s. Not the lure of all this. His brother’s voice kept him grounded.

“No.” He whispered and his head finally lifted. “No.”

Lucifer’s face tightened and power crackled around him. “Wrong answer, Sam.”

He reached for him and Sam felt something tighten on his soul.

“You really should have said yes. Again.”

But before Lucifer could grab him, Sam blinked out of the Lethe and  the Archangel could only stare at the spot he’d left in the sand.

“Damn.”

~~

Sam choked on a gasp as he came to in the backseat of the Impala. Castiel gingerly removed his hand from his chest, shaking it a little. He looked at him closely and then sat back a little.  

“I’m sorry, it was necessary.”

“What was?” Sam asked, rubbing at the place Castiel had touched.

“He pulled your soul back from Lethe,” Meg said and Dean, who’d been forcing himself to focus on the road, glanced at her.

“How did you know that?” Castiel asked for him.

“I’m a smart cookie.” She leaned back, resting her hands on her stomach. She looked uncomfortable enough that Castiel leaned over the seat to hand her Dean’s spare jacket. Muttering her thanks, she stuffed it into a ball and crammed it at the small of her back to ease the ache.

Dean watched the careful way Castiel was handling the demon and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her eyes dart to the clock. She’d been checking the clock randomly for a while and he still wasn’t sure why.

He finally found his voice, not trusting it before. “Sam? You… you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m… I’m fine.” Sam slowly pulled himself up and stared at him through the rearview. “I know what I have to do.”

Dean eyed him in the mirror and saw that Sam was watching Meg. “You scared me there, Sammy.”

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.” Sam nodded, for the first time looking strong and not as defeated as before. “It won’t.”

~~

The clearing was still cold, still crisp with a chill, and the overcast sky had cleared to reveal bright stars and an even brighter, fuller moon. It was strange, how time had stood still in here, in this one spot alone. But it also felt like home. Where nothing mattered but the calm.

Chuck felt movement against his side and tightened his arm around the slender waist to hold Sheol in place. Lying on her black dress was like lying on a bed of satin and he pressed his face against the crook of her neck. It had been so quiet in the aftermath.

Neither had moved for hours.

“We created tsunami in the Philippines,” Sheol finally said, her voice muffled by her arm. He nodded and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Do you remember the last time we were together like this?”

“Not clearly.” He smoothed his fingers over her arm, feeling the cool skin and the spirit she was underneath.

“Lucifer’s fall. We created a new galaxy then… burnt out some stars too as I remember. You came to me needing comfort. It was the last time you set foot in your own Heaven, wasn’t it?”

“I’d forgotten.”

“I know.” She twisted a little. “Strange but I remember everything. The birth of it all. I’ll be here for the death of it all.”

His caress stopped for a moment. “Not yet.”

“If not now, later.” Her head turned a little toward him. “You forget, little brother, that I’m far stronger than you. Than Death. Manipulation or no, I survive.”

“I know.” He slipped his other hand under her waist and brought her back more fully into him. “I wouldn’t want your death.”

“Mm.” Her eyes closed a little and he felt her sigh. “Not that I’ll die. I just change. As usual.”

“So what do we do? What’s done is done.” Chuck toyed with the red gold strands that had fallen over her breast. Sheol sighed and reached back with one hand to cup the back of his head, nails scratching lightly through his hair. 

“We stay as we are. Let the pawns move out. Whatever the end.”

“And if you lose?” 

She smiled at him. “You knew going into this game that neither of us actually loses or wins. That is not what we are or what we really do.”

He stared into her fathomless eyes, saw how lonely his existence was going to be without her, knew instinctively it was why he had lived so long alone in his human form. There’d never been another to compare to that turbulent love he’d had for her for eons. Through all these games, he’d never known such strange excitement before, the thrill of it. With Death and Sheol, he had his only equals. With Sheol, the only one who’d dared to rebel against him and win. She’d won before, but never had he regretted playing the game as much as he did now.

_What had he done?_

  
When Chuck woke hours later, he was alone and feeling cold already. He dressed, always checking over his shoulder to see if she was still there. Sheol enjoyed tricks like those, he vaguely remembered. But now she’d gone back to her Lethe waters and he was still alone no matter how many times he muttered her name.

As always. 

Fishing out his notebook from his bag, he pushed the bag under his head as a pillow. Chuck sighed and stared up at the sky, waiting for inspiration to come.

~~~

Dean whistled as he pulled the car into the long driveway up to the house hidden in the clearing. “Nice work, Cas. You guys squatting?”

“Sitting,” Castiel said absently, his eyes on the back of Meg’s head. The demon had scooted down in the seat, not caring that the broken window blew cold wind at her. 

“Not what I mean… never mind.” Dean parked just beside the broken walkway and slowly got out, stretching his sore back. Sam stood up, stretching as well, while Castiel zapped out, opening the door to help Meg. She looked up at the building and dusted off her hands. 

“Home sweet home,” she muttered, moving around Dean to the front steps.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out?” he asked as he followed her.

“Well, the Motel 6 was a bit too far out for me,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“Cute,” Dean said and he felt Sam lean against him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Strangely yeah.” Sam had been quiet the entire way here since Castiel had woken him up. But he was no longer making snide comments about the trials or Castiel’s hopes to find a cure. He was quiet, watchful, and oddly at peace.

Meg sighed as she stepped into the house ahead of Dean. “I seriously was not looking forward to this.”

Both brothers whistled as they came in. “Cozy,” Sam muttered, glancing the way it was laid out.

“Thank you. I worked hard at it,” Castiel said as he came in behind them and closed the door.

“No one knows it’s here?”

“It is heavily warded to repel attacks from demons and angels among other things. It will keep them out and it remains hidden,” Castiel said as he followed Dean to the living room. “Meg needed a safe place and I…”

He didn’t finish, just watched the demon disappear up the stairs instead of following them. He sighed and sat down on the armchair close to the stairs. Dean took the time to look at all the books and magic ingredients, while Sam nearly collapsed onto the couch. Castiel focussed on him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. I’m good, stop asking me that, both of you,” Sam ordered though he didn’t sound half as biting as he had before. Dean eyed him over his shoulder. “I just… had an epiphany, that’s all.”

“Handy thing, an epiphany.”

“What did Lucifer want?” Castiel demanded and Sam looked at him in shock. “When I pulled you free, I felt him there with you. Sort of like an instinctive pull.”

“He wanted me to complete the trials. Like before. To bring the world to the Lethe and Lethe to the world.”

“Sam, what did you say?” Castiel asked and he gave them both a look.

“Answer him,” Dean ordered, voice snapping out. “I saw you the past weeks, Sam. You were going to say yes. You were going to…”

“I said no.” Sam exhaled and put his head in his hands. “Because you were right, Dean. We aren’t about destroying the world, because this wouldn’t be saving it. I… I’d be taking the choice from everyone.”

Dean nodded, unable to hide the pride from showing in his smile. Sam gave him a hesitant smile back.

“I just don’t get how this is going to heal me.”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s gently.

“Maybe Kevin’s come up with something. The kid is a whiz, remember? We have to have some faith. We’re going to kick it in the ass, like we always do.”

“Maybe,” Sam said wearily.

“Not maybe.”

“I’ll do what I can to help,” Castiel said. He watched the brothers thoughtfully, an idea playing in the back of his mind. Maybe Kevin was right about that latest spell.

“Yeah well, we’ll have to get back to the bunker and…” Dean broke off as he noticed Castiel looking up the stairs. “What?”

“I’ll be back.”

~

Meg was sitting on the bed when he came into the small bedroom, her eyes on the clock. Her hand remained on her full stomach, pushing a little. Castiel watched her thoughtfully from the door.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just… different.” She made an uncomfortable grimace. “She’s heavier than normal.”

Castiel knelt in front of her and reached out, gently brushing her hand away so he could touch her. Meg leaned back a bit to let him, breath sucking in. Castiel murmured lowly. He was clearly talking to Nyx; the same way Meg had to admit to doing as well.

“She’s… I can’t quite feel her.” He looked up into her eyes, fingers smoothing over her stomach.

“Yeah.” She shifted uncomfortably and Castiel tightened his grip a little. 

He was puzzled. The weeks they’d spent together had given them a sense of connection, and he was starting to find it easier to feel when she was troubled. Despite the frequent times he’d left to help Dean and Sam, he’d spent so much time with Meg that he’d been sure she would stop trying to pull away. Though he wasn’t sure she was doing it deliberately. She looked as confused as he felt but she was trying to hide it.

Inside her, Nyx was silent. No throbs of power, no emotions. It was the way she’d felt months before and there was no way for him to know what was wrong with either her or Meg. 

“Something is changing.”

“She’s heavy, that’s all.” She suddenly gasped and her hand wrapped over his. “Hell. That’s scary.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in alarm. “Meg?”

She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m fine. Way too early. It’s a false alarm.”

“What is?”

“These contractions,” she said calmly.

“What!” He flattened his palm and she sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“I read about it. They happen and they don’t hurt. It’s just her moving a little. But she’s pretty quiet. No more thumping around in here.” Meg sat up a little more. “Stop looking so scared. I’m not about to pop yet. We got just over a month to go. I don’t think she’s coming any time soon. ”

Castiel watched her. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be. I’m fine.” Determined to distract him, Meg waved her hand. “Did you find the angels as well?”

“They’re at the bunker, guarding Kevin and his mother.” He kept touching her stomach, as if to catch Nyx if she suddenly popped out. Meg sighed and removed his hand from her. His blue eyes shot up to her. “I can still feel the call from Lethe. But it’s weakening.”

Meg searched his gaze. “Right.”

“But I…”

“And I can feel the contractions. They’re false ones. Not real. Nothing happening.” She stood up and walked around him. “You should worry about Lucifer. About her.”

Castiel stood as well and stopped her from leaving. “I worry about you. Why did you hide this?”

“It only just started and like I said, no big deal. I read about it; just sort of the meatsuit getting adjusted.” Her eyes darted to the clock for a second and Castiel frowned.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Trying to see how long it will take the Winchesters to get out of here,” she muttered and focussed back on him. “You had to bring them here.”

“They need to be protected. You all do.”

“Cas, this is going to be one bad episode of Big Brother if you aren’t careful.” He frowned at the reference and she sighed. “I guess I just got used to having something of my own.”

He watched her face flicker a little in its disappointment and smiled a little. Meg eyed him curiously.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “It won’t be for long. I’ll go get you that peanut butter you said you were out of.”

“You’re just saying that to bribe me into not killing them,” she drawled and earned a smile for that. 

“Yes.”

“Suck up.” She grabbed his tie and pulled him down, rising up on her toes to kiss him. He kept the kiss gentle, fingers gently going over her stomach. Frustrated, Meg sank her teeth into his lower lip and forced his mouth to open in surprise. The kiss deepened as she raked her fingers up his arms to his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck. Castiel smiled against her mouth and gently touched her in return.

Neither heard Dean come in until he banged into the door frame, stumbling in surprise.

“Whoa, I need to wash my eyes out now,” he said though he didn’t look away. Meg gave a disappointed groan and pulled back, tongue flicking out over her lips. Castiel smirked and turned away. 

“I was just about to leave to get Meg something.”

“And she was tapping out her order in Morse code? With her tongue?” Dean asked glibly. 

Meg snorted and walked around him. “You’d be amazed what I know how to do with my tongue.”

He watched her go and shook his head.

“Did you need something?” Castiel asked.

“I just wanted to know if you had hot water here so Sam can wash off that blood he got on him from the vamps earlier.” Dean put his hands in the air and backed away from the angel. “Got enough of an eyeful though to need to scrub myself clean.”

He turned back though and looked at the angel. “Just… pregnant Meg is still all over you?”

“Like she said. You’d be amazed, Dean,” Castiel said and then disappeared in a flutter. Dean blinked.

“Right.” He thought it over. “Ugh, gross.” Still thinking, he shrugged and had to admit, “It’s a little hot too, actually.”

~~

Abaddon was watching the footage her demons had procured. Her men who had followed the Winchesters were about to call, she knew it. They’d been older, better trained, than the last set that had run out. It was set to be an interesting time if they could find out where they were hiding.

“Abaddon.”

Lucifer’s voice sudden in her ear sent a thrill up her spine and she turned away from the screen.

“Father.” She bowed her head respectfully.

“I have a job for you. Once your men call back.”

“As ever, my armies are at your command.” She grinned devilishly. “It is surprisingly easy to control them since I returned.”

“Mm.” He smoothed his hand down her cheek and flooded her with power. Her eyes opened wide as she watched what he wanted her to see. 

“But… that is…”

“The best way. Use the humans in the area. Destroy any who get in your way.”

The thrill of battle surged through the demon and settled in the pit of her stomach. “Yes.”

He was gone when she blinked, just as the call came through. Her mind cleared from the haze he’d left her with and she turned to the goblet full of still fresh blood.

“Mistress.” A demon’s voice, garbled, called to her, and she looked away from where Lucifer had stood. “We’ve found them.”

“Tell me,” she answered, watching the blood ripple.

Standing on the driveway, the demons stood in a line. Further away from them, a demon settled his weight on an old tractor and spoke into a goblet of blood. The dead farmer they’d used was lying underneath him as a footrest. 

“They drove up here and disappeared. It must be close by.”

“Who?” Abaddon demanded. 

“The Winchesters, the angel, and Meg. All of them.”

“Good. Stand at ready.”

“As you wish.”

He fixed his posture and poured the blood on the farmer. The demons in the distance were waiting for orders. When he heard a snick behind him, he turned and gasped as a dark eyed angel slammed his palm over his mouth to quiet his scream. The angel sword slid into his heart and he gasped, sparking as he died.

Inias dropped the body to the ground and stared at the demons just nearby. Squinting, he looked out down the driveway and swallowed.

The hum that had slowly started to overwhelm the Lethe’s call began to pound into his ears.

~~~~

Naomi sat at her desk, staring blindly at the file before her. Scripture brought her no comfort now. Not when things were in such disarray. Sighing, she put it down and folded her hands before her.

“Eight little words,” she muttered. “And he gave me a riddle anyway.”

Reaching up, she pressed her hand into her temple and pushed hard, as if to jog her already eidetic memory. It would only be a matter of time before something went wrong.

The Lethe’s call was louder in Heaven it seemed and for the first time she longed to go back to Earth to end it. Slowly, she pushed harder on her temples.

“ _Protect life. All life. All forms. That is my only order to you all. Creation is sacred.”_

Her eyes snapped open.

“Oh Father, what have we become?”

“Naomi.”

One of the remaining angels who guarded Heaven came striding in. She looked up and saw the strange look on his face. Battle-ready, a soldier ready for war, he’d obviously heard something.

“What is it?”

“Inias. He said that there were demons gathering en masse and overheard them saying they were readying an attack on the Winchesters and Castiel’s demon. He is waiting for our order.”

Naomi looked at her hands. “What order should we give?”

Derel looked at her. He saw her eyes shining. “You received the command from our Father?”

There was such hope in his voice that she didn’t want to lie to him.

“I believe I did.” She sighed and sat back. “There are forces on the move and it is time we remember what we were made to do for our Father. Our enemy is moving.”

“Her?”

“Yes. Her. No more questions. Inform the others. Find them all and send them to Inias. I will join you shortly.”

He was gone and she stared at her hands again, as if picturing the blood on them. 

“We were made for more than this.” 

~~

Abaddon stood with her soldiers, eyeing the house in the far distance curiously. “A safe house. How quaint.”

“We think the Winchesters are there,” one of her soldiers said.

“They would be, wouldn’t they? Hiding like rats. The angel?”

“No sign of him.”

She shrugged. “Our Father will take care of that. Our orders are to end the Winchesters and Meg. The angels won’t dare interfere, not where this abomination is concerned.”

“Battle is fun, even against humans,” the demon muttered.

Abbadon grinned wildly. “This isn’t supposed to be fun, but I have a funny feeling it will be.”

~~

Sam watched Meg curiously as he tried to fix his laptop’s WiFi. The portable unit he carried was struggling to hook up to the Internet through the phone line he’d hacked. Even when it seemed to work, it was so slow he had time to look around. It was only then that he starting noticing Meg checking the clock repeatedly. Her eyes kept flicking between normal and black, as if she was agitated. 

She didn’t move from her spot on the couch though.

The old TV blared with an old black and white movie and Dean was trying to follow it as the scrambled picture wobbled on the screen.

“Is it always this boring?” he asked the demon finally. She shrugged.

“I never stay for too long.” She got up from the couch and moved towards the stairs. She stopped and grabbed the railing, digging her nails in so tight that she left marks and the wood actually cracked. Sam frowned and stared at her.

“Meg?”

“Just dandy, boys. Don’t watch porn while I sleep. That would just get weird.” She made her way slowly up the stairs.

Sam watched her before looking back at Dean. “Where has Castiel gone off to?”

Dean made a noncommittal grunt. “Something for Meg, I think. Peanut butter or sushi or… I don’t know what it is she’s craving. Caught him with his tongue half down her throat so who knows what that craving is really about.”

“He should be here,” Sam said, watching the overhead lights flicker a little. The generator was acting funny.

“Won’t be gone for long, knowing Cas.” Dean grabbed his beer and took Meg’s spot on the couch. He took a long gulp and then eyed Sam. “Why are you so worried though? This is Meg.”

Sam swallowed and looked at the page he’d been loading slowly. “Because I get the feeling Meg’s hiding something from us.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Like this.” He turned the monitor towards his brother and Dean went green.

“Seriously? You wiki’d childbirth and that image came up? That’s disgusting.” Dean didn’t look away though. “Wait. Why are you wikin’ that?”

“She keeps staring at the clock. She’s timing something.”

“A bomb?” Dean said as he read the page.

“More like contractions.”

“Oh, you have to be kidding me. Maybe they’re false.”

Sam gave him a pointed look and Dean sighed, knowing he had a point. The demon was on edge, had been since they’d arrived. They both looked up the stairs, at the railing she’d nearly broken, and Dean hung his head. “Oh you have to be kidding me,” he repeated.

~~

Castiel sighed as he searched the shelves. “Angel of the Lord, Captain of a Garrison, and I’m shopping for peanut butter for a demon.” He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling lights. “You have a very odd sense of humour.”

The shop clerk eyed him curiously from where she was stocking a few low shelves but didn’t move.

The angel searched the entire store before he finally gave up, going to the clerk quickly. The clerk jumped at the sight of him suddenly appearing behind her.

“I need peanut butter. Preferably organic.”

“Uh… I’m not sure. I’m just stocking right now but I can check for you,” the clerk said and Castiel gave her a desperate look. “We might not have any.”

“That is not good.” He sighed and shook his head. “Not good.”

The clerk gave him an apologetic look. “Is it really desperate?”

“I… I need it for someone, she has been craving it for months now for some reason.”

“She?” The girl beamed. “Oh, I get it! Congratulations.”

Castiel blinked, not expecting that. “Thank you.”

“She due soon?”

“Uh…” he stalled, not sure what to say. “Yes, she still has some time though.”

“Well, I’ll check in the back. It might be your lucky day.”

Castiel sighed and watched the girl go to the back room. No point in spending too much time away. Meg and Dean were too volatile around one another and he knew she’d deliberately push Dean’s buttons for fun. 

Setting down the wire basket he’d been filling with supplies the Winchesters might need at the safe house, he closed his eyes. Not knowing why he did it, he reached out. A strange feeling that he needed to get back slowly crawled up his spine, his Grace reacting to the warning of something happening. The low hum of Nyx’s existence he’d learned to look for, that odd darkness of Meg’s he knew, were suddenly both completely entwined as his Grace reached out to see if they were safe. The feeling that he was needed pulled at him and he stared at his own reflection in the freezer doors.

The warning began to nearly pulse inside of his head, instinct screaming at him to get back. He needed to get back.

His phone suddenly beeped and he checked it to see Dean’s number. He still hadn’t quite figured out how to text but his eyes widened when he saw what Dean had written him.

“No. Not yet.”

He tried to wing himself off but found himself stuck in his place. Something blocking his power and keeping him still. 

He only knew one Angel who could do that.

“Oh, don’t leave, Castiel.” 

The reflection of Lucifer suddenly appeared behind him and instinctively Castiel let his blade fall to his hand, spinning fluidly.

Lucifer’s hand wrapped around his throat and pinned him back against the glass before he could lift his arm. Castiel gasped, the angel sword dropping from his hand as Lucifer held him up off the ground.

With a cold, threatening smile, the Archangel leaned in close.

“Hello, brother.”

 


	21. The Storm (When Demons War)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely escaping his encounter with Lucifer, Castiel is protected by an unlikely ally. As Meg’s time starts to draw closer, Abaddon’s plans for war on the Winchesters are unleashed. Leaving them desperate for allies and having no where to turn.

**In the Lethe**

**Part 13: The Storm (When Demons War)**

 The entire store shook under the fury of the angels, lights flickering on and off as their Grace warred and met in a tangle of power. Lucifer twisted through the air and caught Castiel mid-leap, anchoring his fingers into his dark hair and then whipping him around. With a grunt of effort, Castiel dodged a blow to his head and slammed his elbow into the other angel’s stomach, forcing him to let go. He moved fast, an uppercut slamming into his jaw, and Lucifer went to one knee in shock.

But before Castiel could draw his angel sword again, Lucifer rose back up in a blur of movement and tackled him backwards into a freezer door. The shelves crashed against one another as Lucifer’s Grace lashed out, setting things on fire and destroyed the windows. With one arm clamped across his throat, Lucifer pressed until the younger angel choked on his breath. Castiel felt the glass start to shatter behind his head as Lucifer leaned his full weight into him and casually smiled down at him.

Now that they were so close, Castiel could see that Lucifer’s vessel was deteriorating again. Puckered skin was starting to tear under the weight of his own grace, splitting in gashes on his face, and he smelled rotted. Horrified, he could only stare into the Archangel’s eyes and try to struggle free.

“We need to have a chat again, little brother.” Lucifer drew an angel sword and began to drag it over Castiel’s cheek. The slow slicing blade split open his skin from the corner of his lips to his ear and he grit his teeth to bear the pain. The blade cut deeply as Lucifer made an identical mark on Castiel’s other cheek. “Or rather, I’ll talk. You listen.”

“You’re insane,” Castiel hissed as his vessel repaired itself.

“Well, maybe. But I’m not the only one who does things that would make our Father sick.” Lucifer’s eyes glinted a little. “How is your little demon? The Winchesters? Sam is alive and his body intact, I hope.”

Castiel yanked forward against the hold and before he could move far, Lucifer sliced down with the angel sword until it was deep into his shoulder. The shout of pain and Castiel’s renewed struggles only made him grin wider.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lucifer tsked. “All these things you’ve done, Castiel, and I think you enjoy failure. Now, thanks to you, the angels are in the Lethe. All of them: the dead and the living.”

Castiel squinted at him, gritting his teeth against the pain. “What?”

“Angelic essence is near impossible to snuff out completely. Let me just say that quite a few there could name you as a murderer. You would be very unpopular if I dragged you there.” Lucifer leaned his weight into him again. “But I think I want you all to myself.”

There was a cold but almost fanatical delight in his tone made Castiel’s skin crawl as slowly the sword dug deeper and deeper into his shoulder.

“You killed Michael.”

“He threatened them.”

Lucifer continued as if he hadn’t heard the angel, “You stole his Grace. Sinful little bastard, aren’t you? First the Winchesters, then the demon, then this. How much further can you fall? What can you do, Castiel?”

The blade twisted to the left and Castiel felt it hit bone. Only some sense of control kept him from crying out and he shoved back at Lucifer though it didn’t get him far. It gave him just enough room to maneuver his own blade up.

“I asked you a question,” the Archangel prompted as he slowly drew the blade out of Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel’s eyes reopened, glowing light filling them, and Lucifer stared back, a sly smirk crossing his face. “Oh, now there’s a good little soldier.”

Castiel jerked the blade up between them, aiming at Lucifer’s heart but the older angel was already moving backward. He didn’t even flinch as the blade sunk a little into his side but when Castiel flipped his sword over and tried again, he twisted and blocked it with his own. The screech of holy metal on metal was loud and the lights overhead exploded at the sound.

Castiel leapt forward, ducking another blow and slicing his sword against Lucifer’s shoulder. He felt the spurt of blood on his hands and pressed the blade in deeper. Lucifer grabbed hold of him by his coat collar and yanked him close.

“Really, Castiel?”

With a disgusted sigh, Lucifer tossed him easily across the room, half the shelves and the glass doors of the freezers shattering when he crashed into them. Once the younger angel landed, Lucifer waved his hand impatiently through the air and sent him hurtling against the opposite wall. Groaning, Castiel rolled over onto his stomach and dizzily picked himself up. He could taste fresh blood in his mouth and the open cuts on his body were starting to ooze with more blood as his vessel tried to heal. The remaining overhead lights began to crackle and he wiped at his mouth, eyeing the other angel. 

With a slow roll of his shoulders, Lucifer gave him a grin and then pulled a bottle from his coat pocket. He sniffed at its contents when he uncorked the rubber stopper. 

“You know, I remember what you did to Michael. I felt what you did to him.” The Archangel set the bottle on fire with just a look. “It felt painful.”

“He threatened my friends,” Castiel answered, carefully stepping around a pile of glass. If he could just get to the door…

“And you think that committing one of the ultimate sins is worth that?” Lucifer’s bright eyes fixed on Castiel’s torn face. “You’re not that naive, are you?”

 “We don’t need to fight.”

“What fight?” Lucifer held his arms out to the side. “You’re weaker than me, Castiel. It is like pinning a fly to the board and watching it squirm as I pull off its wings.”

Clenching his fingers into fists, the angel eyed the surroundings. Lucifer watched him before smiling and continuing on. “You don’t realize just what it is you set into motion, Castiel. It’s a shame what is going to have to be destroyed because of you.”

Lucifer turned a slow circle, tossing the bottle in the air and catching it with the casual air of a child playing with a ball. Castiel watched the movement carefully, snapping his fingers and letting his angel sword fall to his hand.

The Devil didn’t even move to arm himself

“Plus, what you did? It makes no difference. And that,” Lucifer pointed at the blade, “do you think it could help you?”

The rear door opened to the storage and the clerk came out, wielding a broom as a weapon. She looked around the store, her eyes widening the moment she saw the two angels and the destruction around them. “What the hell?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lucifer agreed, snapping his fingers.

Castiel waved his own hand quickly and his power buffeted against Lucifer’s, preventing harm from coming to the clerk. She went flying back anyway from the force of their combined Grace and he winced as she disappeared into the rear room again. But there she would be safe.

“Now where was the fun in that?” Lucifer asked. “You are worse than Michael, Cas, really.”

“Why are you here?”

“Revenge, petty as it is. You committed some sins, Castiel, but the worst is you made my life far too difficult recently.” The archangel stepped around a shelving unit, putting it between them. The fire-lit bottle sent a glow to his face. “I would have preferred to kill your friends in front of you though. Slowly, painfully. Especially that demon and Dean. But I can make do with just you, Castiel.”

But he made no move towards him.

Castiel watched him warily. “You’re stalling.” His eyes widened when he realized that was exactly what Lucifer was doing. “You’re trying to keep me here.”

“Me?” Lucifer grinned wickedly. “Now why would I do that?”

Castiel’s breathing quickened. “What have you done?”

“Set something in motion. It’s what Archangels do, Castiel. We plan. We scheme.” His grin was wicked. “And we watch the young eat each other.”

“Meg…” Castiel’s focus centred on the phone now vibrating in his pocket. “Dean and Sam.”

“Unfortunate bystanders, which happens in war. Well, not Sam. He’s still got a purpose, I can use him. Without her support, this vessel will collapse.” Lucifer plucked at his shirt. 

“Her… Sheol.” Castiel stepped around him. The Archangel watched him thoughtfully. “She’s been in charge of this.”

“Was. She’s been rather different lately. Quieter. Calmer.” He shrugged. “But I’m used to taking charge when I need to.” 

“You’re still stalling me,” Castiel whispered. 

“Try running.” Lucifer leaned towards him and his voice lowered. “I dare you.”

Castiel darted to the left and Lucifer flung the bottle, sending up an arc of flame with his power that the bottle exploded once it hit Castiel. It completely enveloped Castiel and he realized too late that the flame was actually from Holy Oil. As the oil dripped over his body, the fire followed it and sent hot trails of agony through his body. Covered from head to foot in flames, he grappled with his own power as his skin singed and charred.

 Lucifer watch the spectacle with a small grin as Castiel twisted around the store, trying to use his already wild power to end the fire. But the flames continued to wrap around him like a glowing veil and no matter how he tried he couldn’t escape it. Lucifer leaned back against the shelves and tipped his head on the side, waiting for him to fall.

Having no other choice, Castiel crashed through a broken window to escape the store.

Still grinning, Lucifer casually set the shelves on fire as well before he stepped through the sliding doors. But instead of a smoking body, instead of an angel, the parking lot was empty. Not a trace of Castiel anywhere. Nothing except a ruined trench coat burnt into pieces and a smoking crater where he should have been.

Far too easy, Lucifer thought.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called out.

Silence.

“Castiel!” he shouted, spinning a slow circle and using his Grace to flatten out the distant trees in a smoking arc of fire and power. “You can’t hide forever!”

Up the road, Castiel had flown as far as he could before he lost all control. Exhausted, he ended up lying underneath an overpass bridge, one that ran over the nearest highway. His suit coat reeked of smoke but his Grace and vessel were struggling to cope with the damage from the Holy Oil and flames. He had overextended his own Grace in fighting Lucifer,

He hadn’t expected to feel so weak. Unable to control his power when faced with an Archangel who was born to it. He’d not been able to handle the burn from it, and he felt the way he was drained from using his power to heal the burns all over his body. 

The damage was only on the surface but he knew how lucky he’d been. Whatever leftover power he’d had to fly off was wasted now if he couldn’t rest and recover. He needed to heal before he dared to face Lucifer again.

A large shard of glass was burrowed deep into his shoulder and he yanked his angel sword out. Barely caring about the damage he could be doing, he dug the tip of it into the open would until he felt it touch the shard of glass. With a twist of his blade he popped it free and felt instant relief as his shoulder closed over when the glass and sword were pulled out.

But there was still an unreal agony from the burns of the Holy Oil.

He stared blindly at the underside of the bridge and struggled to use his Grace to heal the pain throbbing through his upper body.

In the distance, he could hear Lucifer’s enraged shouting drawing closer and he closed his eyes, trying to stretch out his power to leap to the safe house.

But he stopped himself just as he nearly made contact. Lucifer could find them if he followed the signs of Castiel’s wounded Grace.

He couldn’t let him hurt them.

Groaning, Castiel tucked himself back as far as he could into the underpass’s overhang and fell to unconsciousness. 

~~

“Where the hell is he?” Dean demanded, checking out the windows and adjusting the curtains irritably. “He should have heard our prayers by now or at least read my text.”

“Maybe he’s really into getting food?” Sam said, reading the laptop screen intently. Dean turned to see that his brother had grabbed one of his notebooks he normally used for his Letter journals. He was taking notes with the sort of interest he might have given a test, scribbling down furiously and counting out a list.

“Wait. Are you… preparing?” 

“You think?” Sam nodded up to the silent loft. “Better this than not knowing anything.” 

Dean scoffed. “You really think that Google is going to turn you into Nurse Sam? Since when are you hard up to help Meg?”

Sam glanced up at him. “Are you just asking questions for the hell of it?”

“Fair enough.” Dean took a seat beside him and made a face. “Please tell me that you didn’t look for that on Youtube. There’s probably only the….” Sam clicked the next window and hit play. The video that started to play immediately made Dean wince and shield his eyes. “Damn it, Sam! That’s a… a….”

“Look, we’re stuck in a house, with a demon I think who is going into early labour. Or whatever it is. I just don’t like the idea of getting stuck with that baby popping out.” He coughed harshly and grabbed a bottle of water from the table. “We’re in enough trouble seeing that Meg won’t talk to us.”

“We need Cas here.” Dean watched the video though his expressions went between horrified and fascinated. “I mean, he’s got to have seen some kids getting born. He ‘observed’ us all for so long.”

“Yeah well, judging by the ‘worst case scenarios’, if we get into trouble I don’t know if Cas would know what to do.”

“What the worst that can happen?” his brother demanded, looking up at the ceiling. “We already have a pregnant demon ready to pop.”

“I can hear you both, you know,” Meg’s voice snapped from overhead. She came to the loft railing and looked down at them.

“Good, I meant for you to,” Dean muttered.  Sam glared at him and turned back to his computer. He could hear Meg making her slow way back down the stairs. 

“We’re just doing some research,” Sam explained loudly and she muttered something under her breath as she came into the room.

Dean watched her from where he sat beside Sam. “So. You want to try honesty for a bit or would that…?”

“Start a new habit and shock you?” Meg drawled as she sat on the armchair and propped her legs up on the coffee table.

“So you started timing. How long have these been going on?” He looked at Meg to see her giving a blank look. “Look, we’re not stupid. You’re…”

“Since the diner,” she snapped. “Happy? I thought they were false because they didn’t hurt.”

“Now?”

“Definitely not painless. Uncomfortable.”

“So much for demons not feeling pain as much as humans,” Dean said to Sam and Meg glared at him. “I texted Cas since he wasn’t answering prayers.”

“And?” There was a practised apathy in Meg’s voice but both men noticed how her eyes darted to the door almost hopefully. “Where is he?”

“We don’t know. So I think we should get to a hospital.” Sam closed his laptop and looked at Meg.

“Middle of nowhere, miles outside the nearest town, and not to mention the fact that I’m a demon? What the hell makes you think this is going to go normally?” Meg scrunched her face up a little. “Plus I hate hospitals.”

“You stayed in one for how many months when we put you in charge of Cas and now you have a problem?” Dean asked. Meg rolled her eyes.

“I’ve had to stick around you for how many months and you think I’ve learned to like you just because of that?” she pointed out.

“Touché.”

“I need Cas here though. I know that,” Meg muttered. She stood up and slowly began to pace. Sam sighed and looked at Dean.

“Maybe you should drive out. Check to see where he is.” 

“He’s an angel, he doesn’t really get out of range, you know,” he answered and Sam gave him a look that spoke volumes. Dean fidgeted a little but clearly caved when Sam’s gaze turned almost puppy-eyed. “Fine. You are worse than Meg sometimes with manipulating me, I swear.”

He grabbed his keys. “You stay with Meg.” He looked at the demon. “And Meg, no popping out a hell-spawn, got it?”

“Oh yeah, you should have thought of that months ago before I got into this mess,” she said, still pacing.

Dean rolled his eyes again and headed to the door. “I’ll call if I find trouble.”

Sam glanced at Meg to see her staring at him. “Give him an hour and he’ll be calling in with trouble,” she said darkly before heading back up the stairs.

He wasn’t about to openly agree with her but he knew she had a point.

~~~

Standing on the hillside, Abaddon watched the Impala travel down the dirt road in the distance. She tapped a red nail against her cheek thoughtfully. The house had been so quiet lately and she’d not seen any movement near there for the past hour. The Impala was being driven fast though and it fishtailed a little as Dean turned a corner. 

“Now where would you be going?” She muttered and looked back in the direction of the house.

“A diversion?” another demon asked and she shook her head.

“No. Not yet anyway.” She exhaled sharply and looked around the hillside where more and more demons were slowly making their way towards her building army. The townspeople had given them more than enough for a small force and the farmers around the countryside were easy targets. But they had left just enough of the humans for blood rituals and as a means of control.

Abaddon always liked to come prepared and she didn’t trust the Winchesters not to have a few tricks up their sleeves. She’d heard the stories about them, about Castiel, and she knew Meg well. She knew that putting Meg in a trap would only make her fight harder.

She and her Father were counting on that.

“Mistress?” The demon who’d spoken was a young one. She liked these young demons; all so eager to please. “We kept one or two humans. Maybe we can send a message.” 

“Yes.” She smirked to herself. “That is an excellent idea. Bring me one.”

The loud sound of someone being slapped made her turn her head a little. One of the farmers from up the road was being dragged forward. He was bleeding from a gash on his forehead but unlike the rest of his possessed family, he was still of use to her. What he’d witnessed had put him into a state of shock.

Just what she needed.

“You’re going to do something for me,” she told the petrified man and she turned towards him. A human could slip past the wards they’d found. “You’re going to destroy the markers my men will show you and then you are going to deliver a message.”

“Why should I?”

She glanced at one of the children meaningfully and he quickly nodded. Though they were demons now, all he could see was his children’s faces, and he fell into line instantly. Grinning, she patted him condescendingly on the face. “Good boy,” Abaddon whispered before she dug her nails into his right eye socket just to hear him scream.

This really was going to be too much fun.

~~~

Gentle fingers moved through his hair, stroking him like a beloved pet, and he rolled a little into the hold. With his head cushioned on a pair of legs and his body almost wrapped into a small ball, he felt warm and almost healed. The touch was so comforting.

“Meg?” he whispered. Angels didn’t dream but he was sure he was hallucinating about something he needed. He could pretend for just a little longer.

The fingers stilled for a moment and then continued stroking his hair. “No, Castiel.”

The unfamiliar voice was so startling that he sprang up into a crouch, his angel sword in his hand. He swung it out blindly and nearly lost his balance when his foot slipped. Shaking his head, Castiel had to blink and struggle to focus on the shadows of the bridge. 

The woman sitting under the overpass with him was so pale her skin was nearly translucent, red hair curled neatly over her shoulders. She looked back at him serenely, barely flinching when he continued to threaten her with the angel sword. But it was her face that struck him, made him almost drop his weapon. Her face and her bright eyes that seemed incredibly sad.

“You don’t know me, do you?” she asked curiously and he shook his head.  Resting back on her hands, she smiled.  “That’s a shame.”

Castiel looked nervously out at the road way where a storm was passing overhead. The woman rolled her eyes up as well, narrowing them thoughtfully. She waved a hand and a thick fog slowly began to crawl over the pavement. 

“It’s coming. Rain always tends to happen when there’s a change coming.” 

The cryptic poetry in her words made Castiel back up another nervous step.

“Who are you?” Their eyes locked and he knew her instantly when he looked her in the eye. The jewel-bright glimmer, the power that radiated off her very body, and the knowing smirk made him too aware that he was out of his depth. They’d never met before but he _knew_ her. “You’re… You’re…”

“Someone who could have ended this time and time again.” Sheol clicked her tongue. “Would have too. Angels, while amusing, never had too much interest for me when their Father invested so much into their obedience.”

Her red lips parted in a smirk and she eyed him. “So to speak.” With a flick of her hand, she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and looked out over the highway. “He’s coming for you. But as long as I’m here, he won’t find you. I’ve no interest in killing you myself anymore.”

“You set him free.”

“Of course I did. He has his purpose, but unfortunately, that purpose no longer matters.” Her hand waved in a circle and the fog seemed to thicken even more until Castiel could barely make out the road. “But I loved him as much as I love all those who come to Lethe.”

“You tricked them. You’ve imprisoned the angels… you nearly ended the world!”

Castiel took one menacing step towards her but she moved faster than he could. He went flying through the air and landed on his back with a crack that splintered the cement. Sheol quickly straddled him and pinned him to the ground beneath her, her fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezing. He choked under her grip and blindly stabbed upwards with his sword. The loud squelch of the blade as it sunk deep into her belly made him think he’d caught her off guard.

But Sheol only sighed and gave him an annoyed glare. “Really?”

She drew the sword out slowly from her stomach and he swallowed as she tucked it back in his belt. With the weapon safely out of the way, she leaned against him and stroked his face with her other hand.

“Like I said. I’m not here to kill you. I cannot interfere so directly unless there is a better… reason. You aren’t one for me though I agree with your Father. You are an interesting creature.” She tapped her finger against his jaw. “Your struggles, they are very similar to my demon’s. And you’ve found that you love her. How strange.”

Her eyes looked into his intently. “I wonder what she sees in you. It isn’t very obvious to me.”

“What does Oblivion know about love?” he ground out between clenched teeth. 

“Quite a bit. I know all about it though. Felt it. Mourned it. I’ve seen the joys it brings, and the costs it comes with.” She sat up, slapped him lightly on the cheek, and then moved off of him. “It does spring up in the strangest of places.”

Castiel realized that beside her his power was actually stunted completely. He felt almost powerless next to her. Carefully picking himself up, he put more space between them. 

“I would not suggest for you to trust me though, Castiel.”

“You’re helping me now. Why?” he asked, confused by her 

Her grin was wicked. “Because while I don’t care for you at all, she does. And we’re bound, the two of us. Have been since she entered Lethe and then left when you raised her from the river. If she dies, there are consequences.”

“You’re bound to Meg,” Castiel whispered. Her eyebrow arched and she waited patiently. “That’s why you’ve not….”

The loud rumble of a car approaching made him look away. Even in the distance, even through the fog, he could always recognize the Impala.

Breathless, he turned back only to find he was alone again. With it went the healing warmth he’d felt and he promptly sank to his knees. Sheol had been real though, he knew, but without her he lost that blissful numbness that had kept the pain away. The oppressive pressure on his body suddenly felt too much and he moaned, rolling down the overpass hill. The gravel dug into his hands and knees as he dragged himself over the middle of the road.

He lifted his head to see the headlights shining in his face as the car continued towards him

“Dean,” he muttered and his head dropped wearily back down to the pavement.

~~~

The house was too quiet and still for even Sam. As much as he needed the rest, he couldn’t sleep. Could barely stop his brain from turning over the past two days in his head. The problems with Meg were nothing compared to what he knew could be happening to him. He could feel the slow drain of the trials on him again. He’d made his choice but at what cost?

What if the illness brought on by the trials continued to slowly kill him?

He could still hear Lucifer demanding he fix things, demanding he give in so he could be healed. But unlike before, he was able to shove that to the back of his mind. Castiel had said he’d be safe here. He could trust Castiel and once Dean came back they could figure out the rest of the cure Castiel said Kevin had found.

Sam stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw what resisting Lucifer had to done to him. It was in his haunted eyes and pale skin but at the same time he was starting to see other signs. He no longer looked as ill as before, no longer as thin and tortured.

Maybe part of the cure was in saying no.

The low sound of cursing in the room beside him was enough to snap him out of it. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and gave himself one last look before he slowly approached the bedroom. He knocked on the open door and leaned in a bit, ready to retreat if he needed to. 

Meg still sat on the bed, her head low and her toes just barely touching the hardwood. Her dark hair was swung over her shoulder, almost hiding her pale face but Sam noticed the faint line of sweat along her hair line. She looked like she was stuck in a trance and even when he cleared his throat she didn’t look up.

She’d been so quiet since Dean had left to find Castiel.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night or are you going to come in?” she demanded suddenly and he shook his head. The prickly way she dealt with them hadn’t changed at least, he thought as he came into the bedroom. 

Meg dug her nails into her thigh, staring at the floor with an odd intensity. In front of her, Sam fidgeted a bit before he took a seat in the armchair across from the bed.

“So… what…” He cleared his throat. “What does it feel like?”

Her eyes flicked black and then brown. “Seriously?”

“Just… you’ve been pretty calm.”

“Demon, Samboy. My pain tolerance is high.” Her back arched a bit and she stood up in an awkward movement. “Except this… is like having my spine pulled out through my stomach.”

He swallowed. “Closer?”

“No, still the same. But the occasional one… just hurts like a bitch.” She winced. “Maybe they’re still false.” He stared at her and she shrugged. “A girl can hope.”

“I have no idea what to do,” he admitted awkwardly. “I thought that this would be Castiel’s job.”

“You think I do?” Meg laughed and then groaned. Her hand whipped out and with a simple flex of her power she caused the lights in the house to flash on and off a few times. “O-okay that one was closer than before.”

Sam gave her a panicked look  that she ignored as she began to pace. The fact that she was so calm was only making him feel more nervous than before. Once she was pacing in the other room he almost ran down the stairs to get his laptop. “Google don’t fail me now,” he muttered.

Eyeing the cloudy sky and the way the wind was snapping tree branches back and forth, Sam wondered what was coming. Recently any storm had been a bad sign for them and he was coming to expect disaster. Even the thought of a storm made his stomach turn nervously. 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and prayed hard. “Come on, Cas. I don’t think they can wait for you.”

With nothing else to do, he turned on the old television to the local cable channel and turned back to his computer. As he worked away, jotting down notes and absorbing as much as he could, the news started to filter in. Segments on apparent arson cases, robberies, a string of strange murders; none of it registered until the weather came on.

“…a large storm system…”

Sam jerked his head up and stared at the TV, cranking the volume. 

“…Headed over the region. Reports of hundreds of lightning strikes in the area damaging properties and causing small brush fires. Citizens are warned to keep indoors…”

He heard footsteps and eventually he tore his eyes away from the report  to see Meg standing close to him. She was looking out the window, eyes searching the overcast sky. It was hard to tell if it was day or night just by looking outside; whatever storm was moving in was going to be heavy enough to block out natural light.

“Sky is clear here though,” she muttered. 

“Maybe it is south of us at least. Just a regular storm.”

Her head rolled on her shoulders a bit and she gave him a look. “Come on, Sam.”

“Fine.” He stood up and looked as well. “Something’s wrong.”

“Good boy, Moose.”  She ignored the look he shot her and turned her head on the side a bit. “You know, in all the months Castiel kept dragging me here or I kept coming back, I never saw a human.”

“Well, it is pretty remote,” Sam agreed, not sure what she was getting at.

“So who do you think that guy is then?”

Startled, he looked out as well to see a solitary man slowly coming up the driveway. He was practically dragging his leg behind him like it was nothing more than a limp and useless attachment. Unarmed, from what he could see, but he was so out of place that it was hard not to notice him now. Sam tried to see through the shadows and then glanced at Meg. 

“He’s not a demon,” she said almost too casually. “But you have to wonder, Sam, how’d he get here?”

Something about her flippancy was too practiced. He stared down at her until Meg looked up at him and shrugged, heading to the door. Sam took one last look and then followed, pausing to grab the shotgun Dean had left behind.

The man had managed to get halfway to the porch by the time Meg unlocked the door. Sam pushed her back, ignoring her complaints, and pointed the gun at him. “Hold it right there!”

Automatically, his hands went in the air and he stopped moved. The man’s head lolled back, revealing a gaping wound where his eye should have been. He was clearly in shock as he slurred over his words. “I… supposed to… give a message.”

Meg looked up at Sam and he glanced at her, nervously tightening his grip on the trigger of the gun.

The man’s remaining eye focussed on Meg. “You’re gonna be tortured. Until you beg to get that baby ripped outta you.”

Meg turned her head on the side and stared closely. He was speaking almost robotically but subtly he was also pointing a little to one side. She looked in the direction he was pointing at as he continued to talk. Every word seemed to take him so much effort that he was speaking slow, letting her take in what he wanted her to see.

“Sam Winchester is to go to the woods and surrender and they’ll let him live. But the woman dies.”

Sam lifted the gun. “Who told you to say that?”

“Another woman. With black eyes. She’s… she’s got my kids.”

“Five bucks says they aren’t really your kids anymore, huh?” Meg ran her eyes over the hillsides in the distance and saw tiny flickers of smoke flying through the air. Whenever they struck the ground, more smoke seemed to rise. “Sam.”

He looked up at well and swallowed nervously. “Damn. Demons.”

“Must have tracked us here.” Meg looked back at the injured man. “So, what do we do with you?”

“We can bring him in.”

“Yeah, because me like this isn’t going to consume enough of our time. We need a walking wounded too,” Meg muttered as Sam went down a few steps towards him. She huffed but when she turned to go into the house, she heard a snick-snare, like a match being lit. Before Sam could get too far, she reached out and grabbed him by his collar, hauling him back beside her.

The hiss of fire being ignited was loud and before their eyes the man was set on fire. He screamed and Meg kept Sam back as he began to burn before their eyes.

“I can help him!” he shouted.

“How?” Meg asked calmly as the man began to move, arms flailing wildly as he twisted and turned, trying to stop the fire. He was headed for the house and through the flames they could see what the fire was doing to his flesh. “There’s only one way you can help him and you know it. They turned him into a walking firebomb and he’s suffering.”

Sam swallowed and glanced at the gun in his hand. 

Meg stared at him as if to say ‘well?’ but when he made no move to do what they both know had to be done, she sighed and shook her head.

“Hunters. Nobility at the worst times.”

Lifting her hand, she turned her fingers sharply in a circle and they both heard the crunch of bone as she snapped his neck. The man sagged to the ground and continued to burn though there were no more screams and cries for mercy. Meg watched, the firelight putting her face into an orange glow that nearly reflected in her eyes, and flexed her fingers at her side. Neither Sam or her moved as the corpse burned. When there was nothing more than a pile of ash, the demon finally took in a deep breath.

“We need to stay in the house.”

“If they’re out there though…” Sam had a hard time ripping his eyes away from the pile of bones and soot in the yard.

“Cas warded this place up and….” Meg broke off and hissed in a breath, grabbing hold of the railing. He watched her stumble back to the door. “I have to… get….”

She nearly ran back into the house and Sam took one last look at the empty driveway before following her.

~~~~

 Dean drove in near silence. He hadn’t questioned finding Castiel at the nearest highway, had barely said more than two words to him after dragging him into the Impala just as the rain broke out. Just shoved him in the front seat and turned the car around. Though he kept fidgeting, clearly wanting to say something, he kept focussed on the road and getting back as fast as the car could take the.

But when they were half-way back, he finally let himself really look at Castiel. The angel looked as if he was sound asleep, leaning his head back on the seat, and his eyes were closed. Dean sniffed the air and shook his head at the thick smell that lingered around Castiel. Smoke and ash, as if someone had set him on fire, but as the miles passed the more the smell faded. The wounds on his face and hands were already healing over and he was looking like Castiel again. 

Dean hadn’t seen him look so weak in months and if he was trying to actually sleep then it was likely he was healing. That Castiel couldn’t just rejuvenate worried him. How badly had he been hurt?

“You okay?” he asked finally as they passed onto a dirt road to take a shortcut he had found earlier. 

“I’m… fine…” Castiel’s eyes opened a little, and he blinked a little as if he had a hard time getting himself awake.

“You look like Hell, man.”

The angel ran his hand over his scruffy cheek, where the skin had finally healed normally. “I’m aware.” 

“Where’s the…coat?” Dean eyed him as he rounded a curve on the road. “Not used to seeing you without it.”

“Burned. I haven’t had time to remake it.” Castiel leaned back. His voice was clipped, short and dry as if he’d spent so much time screaming that he could barely control how raspy it was. “I’m tired.”

The hunter glanced at him again. “You better wake up soon, Cas, Meg’s not too great.”

“She’s not ready yet.” He almost curled into the seat and shut his eyes as if to end the conversation.

“Yeah and no offence but you don’t think she could have maybe lied about that?” Dean muttered and he saw Castiel look over at him again.

“Why would she?”

“Maybe she’s actually scared for once.”

Castiel snorted, too tired to argue. “Maybe.”

“You’re just a bundle of fun to talk to.” Dean looked up through the windshield. “Man, the weather lately.”

He pointed out at the lightning streaking the sky in horizontal lines. Castiel lazily looked out as well, eyes still drooping a little. “I know.”

“You want to even guess?” he asked and the angel shrugged. “ ‘Course not.”

“Well, if we were to look at it objectively,” Castiel said, leaning his head out the window, “then you’d remember that the weather has been acting strange for several months. This is hardly unique. Perhaps you just haven’t been noticing.”

When he pulled his head back in, Dean was glaring at him. 

“What?”

“You know, you started hanging around her more and you got a lot more snarky.” Dean focussed back on the road. “Not to mention you are actually understanding the jokes.”

“Someone had to take me in hand, I suppose,” Castiel said. He looked out the window and squinted. “Something’s standing on the road.”

Instinctively, Dean slammed on his brakes and the Impala’s tires screeched on the gravel, tossing up a spray as he had to spin his wheel to control the skid. The car groaned as the entire frame jerked forward once and then stopped. Castiel held on and waited patiently, eyeing Dean curiously.

“I meant further up,” he said when the car settled down.

“Yeah well, I knew that,” Dean muttered and he looked over Castiel out the passenger window. “Who the hell are they?”

Castiel stared as well at the line of men and women on the road, from embankment to embankment. None of them were moving but he could see what they were. His fingers flexed on his knees as if getting ready for a fight. 

“Demons.”

“Out this far?”

“I’ve not seen a demon this far out of the town since I started bringing Meg to the…” He straightened up in his seat, losing that air of exhaustion and pain instantly. “Drive.”

“What?” Dean pointed at the line of demons. “Cas, there is a line of…”

The Impala’s gas pedal was shoved down under his foot and the wheel turned without his grip to keep it steady. The car roared to life, engine whining at the force of the power being thrown into it, as Dean shouted for Castiel to stop. The Impala jerked left and then right until it steadied and shot off like a black bullet across the road, and headed straight for the demons. The angel’s focus was solely on using his power to manipulate the car though, his eyes nearly glowing from it, and the Impala responded to the Grace controlling it. Dean grabbed at the twisting wheel, trying to stop it, but the wheel felt hot to touch.

They were getting closer and closer to the demons and the Impala was still out of his control. Castiel never relented in his concentration, fingers turning a little so the wheel turned with his power, and the accelerator touched the floor under Dean’s foot. The entire car seemed to lift a little off the ground, a glow shimmering off its undercarriage and headlights. Throwing his arms up before his eyes, Dean leaned back in his seat and prepared for the inevitable crash.

“Damn it! Castiel!” he shouted as the car ploughed through the demons standing. They screamed as the glow from the car turned white-hot and flashed outwards and the ones furthest leapt to the side. The Impala struck the rest head on, sending bodies flying through the air as it rammed them and barely broke in speed. The car fishtailed a little and spun its wheels as it turned the next curve in the road, still going at high speed.

Dean looked out the rear window at the demons trying to catch up to the car and then back at the concentrating Castiel. He pointed at the demons and then at the steering wheel. “Seriously. You just Knight-rider’d my car. My car, Cas!”

“Yes.” Castiel eased the power behind the car so Dean could grip the wheel again without hurting himself. They were close enough now that he could see the lights of the house just down the road. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, you’re no Kit but it’ll work,” Dean muttered as he sped down the driveway to the house. “Next time, I do the driving. You probably dented her or something.”

“They’ll return to Abaddon. I need to get to Meg, I need to rest before that happens.”

“And if they lead Lucifer here?” Dean demanded and Castiel exhaled sharply. He didn’t even look at him until he stopped the car and got out near the front steps. Dean tapped the roof of the Impala to get his attention. “Cas? What if he comes here and Sam…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Dean ran his eyes over Castiel who stared back at him. “Yeah. Sure.”

He felt the angel at his back as they walked up the steps, the wards still creating that odd pulse of magic around them. The storm was following them in but what caught the hunter’s attention was the pile of ash in the yard. He glanced at Castiel, who shrugged in response and didn’t seem to have an answer.

Dean called out Sam’s name as Castiel paused on the deck, looking out over the hillsides and the woods. Where before having such a remote place had been ideal, now he wondered if he should have found somewhere else, some place closer to a real city. But then he remembered the months of relative quiet, the days he could spend here without fear, and knew that it had been the only choice.

It was still the safest place he knew.

“In here,” Sam answered his brother, passing the front door. “You guys okay? I was worried.”

“Except for Cas looking like crap, we’re fine.” Dean jerked his thumb out at the front yard. “What happened?”

“The usual. Demons. Firebomb using a human and Meg had to take care of it.”

“Meg?” Castiel stumbled into the house, leaning against the doorframe when he nearly fell. Sam grabbed him before he could fall and hauled him over to the couch. He eyed the lack of coat but didn’t comment on it. Dean waited for Castiel to sit before he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at him.

“Ok, we’re here now. So what the hell happened to you?” he asked. 

“Lucifer.” Castiel lowered his head and rubbed wearily at his eyes. 

“You look like you went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali and lost.”

“I didn’t win.” His eyes drooped a little. “But I didn’t lose.”

“Well, that’s great,” Sam said. “What happened to Lucifer?”

“I don’t know. Someone… came in. He was tracking me but I think I’ve lost him for now.” He heaved for breath. “I’m still healing.”

“That’s really not good.” Dean looked out the window. “Did you see anyone?”

“Sheol.” The angel shuddered. “I was unconscious though. I’ve no idea where she came from.”

“Seriously?” Dean blinked and looked at Sam, seeing his sudden interest. “She just showed up?”

“She hid me from Lucifer.” Castiel shook his head. “None of it makes sense.”

The brothers looked at each other.

“Where is Meg?” he asked and Sam nodded up to the bedroom. 

“She won’t come down. I think she’s having real contractions.”

Castiel frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“Because she actually was in pain and Meg hides that pretty well.” Sam pointed outside. “I mean, she helped me earlier but now we’ve got a threat from Abaddon. She wants me out there, as hostage, and Meg killed. Meg thinks they’re on the hillside, waiting to pounce.”

“Or?”

“There really wasn’t an ‘or’, Dean,” he finished. “She seems to think we’re going to do it. But what does she have to make us?”

Dean hesitated and looked at Castiel. “Lucifer. If he arrives can he get through the wards?”

“I don’t know but if the demons can move closer, then they must have forced a human to destroy the wards. The house is still protected” Castiel was staring up the stairs, aware that Meg was at the top and listening. He could feel her eyes on him. “We’re vulnerable here. And if we move Meg…”

“We lead them back to the bunker and that won’t help us either.”

“Exactly.”

“We can’t just fight them either,” Sam said. “There’s only four of us who can fight.”

“Three,” Dean said, jerking his chin to the stairs. “She’ll be in no shape in a bit. And Cas has his power on the fritz.”

Castiel shook his head and his eyes went back to where he could just make out the demon staring down at them all. “I need some time. That’s all. Lucifer hasn’t found us yet.”

“Yet.” Dean sighed and eyed Sam. “How’re you holding up?”

He gave him a lazy look. “I’m not dead.”

“Comforting, Sam.” Dean got up. “I’m going to see what rounds we got left in the Impala. You get sleep and Cas….”

When they both looked he was gone and Sam shrugged. “One guess.”

“I don’t want to. Sleep. I’ll count the rounds and make sure we’re stocked up for a while.” He grabbed his duffel bag. “Warfare and childbirth. I really can’t decide which is worse.”

Both brothers stared at each other.

“Childbirth,” they decided together.

~~

Castiel stared at Meg from the doorway and found himself content just to watch the demon. Standing in the nursery, the lamplight framing her perfectly, there was something almost ethereal in the way she glowed. Glowed but there was still that fierce undercurrent of darkness and thorns protecting her, prickling at the very air around her. Her head tilted back, Meg was watching the skyline with one hand holding the curtains back. 

The angel needed time to rest, he knew it, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move away from watching her.

Her head tipped on the side and he watched the fragile line of her neck twist a little, the delicate skin and even more delicate muscle drawing his eye. The meatsuit she’d claimed had always been deceptively small but strong, and he still found it fascinating. She was the furthest thing from vulnerable or needing his protection, but he wondered if that was why he wanted her and wanted to protect her anyway.

Feeling uncomfortable without his coat, he loosened his collar and tie as he slowly crossed the hardwood floor as quietly as he could. He kept moving until he was pressed up behind her, one hand going around her to the windowsill. Meg barely flinched, just rocked back just a little into him, and he felt the press of her body into his. His hand drifted over her stomach and he felt the tiny clenches going through her when he looked for them.

He smoothed his other hand down her neck and felt the way her pulse jumped at his touch.

“What took you so long?” Meg asked, sounding distracted. 

“I…” He felt her stomach seem to ripple under his fingers, an odd sensation that was more a shift of power than physical. “You’re close.”

“Been over a day, Cas, I’m not any closer than I was before. What happened?” 

There was a flippancy in her voice that sounded off. It made him yank her around, his hands gripping her shoulders and he crouched a little to look her in the eye. “Stop lying.”

“Stop avoiding,” she snapped back, hands gripping his suit lapels. “It was Lucifer, wasn’t it?” 

He nodded and Meg breathed out slowly. She turned back around to look out the window. “And Abaddon. Great. Whole side of Hell against us. All we need now is for the angels to join in and we can have a real party.”

Not knowing why, he leaned against her until he could feel her pressed against him, and closed his eyes. It was easier to try to take comfort from the thorny calm she had. 

“What happened to the coat?” she asked, plucking at his suit sleeve thoughtfully.

“Lucifer. He used a sort of fire bomb on me that I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not a bad tactic actually.” He glared at her and she patted his hand. “Bet that’s like a declaration of war for you, huh? The coat?” 

Meg chuckled but he shook his head. “It is just a thing.”

“That’s not what I… it was a….” She gave up. “So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” He hesitated a little. “I saw… Sheol.” Meg’s entire body went tight and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her still. “She said you were connected. Is that true?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was low. “I’ve always felt like I was still half-in-half-out of the Lethe. But I think now it is more because of you than her that I feel that way.”

He stared at her profile, knowing what she really meant, and after a moment, she looked away. 

“It’s possible.” His arms slid around her, tightened again when Meg muttered uncomfortably about him being clingy. “It seems like she is… more interested in you and Nyx than me.”

“Don’t let it hurt your ego, feathers,” Meg said mockingly. 

“Why though?” 

The demon hesitated. “It’s because of Nyx and she is…” 

 Her sudden, low cry was so pained that he jumped.  “Fuck fuck fuck!” she swore under her breath and her nails dug into his hand. Castiel moved fast, not bothering to wait, and pulled her into his arms. The demon’s twitching form was suddenly hot to touch and he swung her up close to him. He ignored her insults as he blinked back out again, back to the bedroom. 

Her fingers grabbed his suit lapel as he set her down. “I hate you,” she hissed, eyes still shut.

He nodded. “I understand.” Castiel touched her stomach. “Your water isn’t broken but they are stronger?”

“You think!” she shouted at him and he winced, his ears ringing. 

“She’s frightened. You’re in pain?”

“I swear to Hell I am going to de-feather you.”

Castiel pressed his fingers tighter. “Calm down.”

"Calm down?" Her eyes flashed. "Here."

Her hand clamped down on his and with a twist of her power she showed him what she was only just starting to feel. The angel’s eyes widened and he let her go, breathing fast. 

“That is very… painful.”

“Good. Maybe now you won’t think I should be all sunshine about this.” Meg shuddered. Castiel smoothed his hand over her forehead, feeling how feverishly hot she was now.

“There is something wrong, isn’t there?”

“Month early and that one hurt like a bitch. So yeah, there’s something wrong.” The demon touched her stomach and shook her head. “This has to be the worst idea I’ve gone along with. Should have…”

Castiel ignored her rambling and cupped his hand tighter on her pelvis. He was trying to touch Nyx’s tiny life, but the block of Meg’s power was almost repelling him now. The way she kept trying to push him off only made it worse. He shushed her, feeling the way her body was starting to change already, and knew that Meg was closer than she’d been letting on. Still murmuring to himself, he tried to soothe the pain away but nothing seemed to work the more agitated Meg became.

The sound of Sam coming up the stairs didn’t make him pull away.

“What do you want?” Meg muttered and the Winchester stared at the strange pose they made.

He cleared his throat. “How close is she, Cas?”

“I’m not sure. Nyx is… frightened, I think, but she’s not moving.” He looked up and Meg’s eyes connected with his. He searched her gaze, seeing what she was trying to hide, and then ran his hand through her hair. 

“Tell me that you know something about babies because we’re hunters, not midwives,” Sam said, eyeing them both.

“I’m a demon. That’s out of my area of expertise,” Meg said, still not looking away from Castiel.

“Great. Cas?”

“I… no. We observed but I never had need to… help.” Castiel let Meg go and stood up.

They were still staring at each other when a loud crack of lightning tore through the sky and struck the ground close to the house, causing the building to shake. Meg stood up quickly and glanced out the windows to see that the storm had finally started to roll in. 

The front door slammed open and they could hear the wind howling outside.

“Guys, we got demons!” Dean’s voice was strained and Castiel disappeared from sight before they could stop him.

“Damn it, Cas,” Meg muttered and turned to the man beside her. “Come on, Sam. Let’s get ready to fight.”

He looked down at her. “You… you’re going to fight in this condition?”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Can you think of a way to stop me?”

~~

Castiel had zapped himself outside, wanting to see for himself what Dean was warning them about. He went only so far as to stand outside the house in the front yard and he used his recovering power to wave away the mists across the fields. Staring at the line of cars parked in the nearby field and the lines of people standing close by, he realized that he’d underestimated the time it could take demons to recover. They were more than a mile out but he could see them all clearly. 

Taking in a deep breath, he held it.

The numbers weren’t something he’d wanted to see. Abaddon had moved fast to get them all here.

The storm wasn’t because of them though; it lacked the darkness and felt strangely pure and natural. He could feel the electricity in the air, one that crackled around him and caused his dark hair to lift a little in the wind. This was something demons couldn’t have done.

Knowing he was likely going to die if the demons had planned better than he had, he stepped towards them. Castiel closed his eyes at the blinding glow of another lightning strike just inches away from him and he stepped to the side.

Time froze the moment his shoe set down on the edge of the driveway. 

~~

“Dean’s phone must be dead,” Kevin shouted down to his mother from the top level. She was packing a bag of supplies but at this bit of news she nearly growled.

“They only have forty phones, they can’t keep them charged?”

Kevin shrugged and jogged down the stairs. “Maybe they’re busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Hunter stuff, how do I know?” he countered as he hefted a bag onto his shoulders. “If we can go get those things from Garth, we can be back here by the time they get back.”

“Provided he has them. Even Castiel isn’t coming when we called.” She shoved another bottle into her bag and grabbed the keys to the rental car she had.

“Busy too. He’s got Meg, remember?”

Linda shrugged as they headed to the hatch door. “I guess. They’ve still got a month anyway.”

Kevin ignored her annoyed muttering and waited for her to get outside before setting the alarm again. 

“Everything will be safe in the bunker. Tablet is there and we’ve got the formula memorized for the spell. So let’s just… get this done.” He locked the door behind him and turned to find her staring at a woman. Instinctively, he knew it was another angel and he quickly stepped in front of his mother to protect her.

The blonde smiled at them both. “Hello, Kevin Tran.”

“Who’re you?”

“I was instructed to take you to a safe place. Both of you. As things have taken a turn for War.”

“We’re busy,” Linda snapped but the angel smiled. Unlike the few times he’d met the angels, Kevin found that there was nothing threatening in this one. She simply nodded and then shrugged, like a human hearing something she expected.

“Unfortunately, that hardly matters.” She snapped her fingers and two other angels appeared, suited and dark haired. “Take them.”

On the hillside, Crowley watched as Kevin and Linda were zapped out from in front of the bunker. He hadn’t moved for hours. His cure was down there and he hadn’t moved. He had to wait. Whatever had been done to him could be cured and in his already hazy brain he could understand that.

The side of him that was slowly turning to insanity was lucid enough to wait until there was no threat. When the angels disappeared from view, even the ones that had been guarding the bunker, he finally moved. Getting to his feet, he groaned and started down the hill. 

All the time hearing the singing of the tablet in his ears beckoning him for his own cure. 

~~~

When the white light cleared, Castiel opened his eyes to see his surroundings had changed completely. It took him a moment to realize it, the ringing roar of the lightning and thunder still causing his head to ache. Gone was the overcast sky, the distant demons and cars, the smell of rain and grass.

The white surroundings were unfamiliar, the lights too brilliant and reminding him of Naomi’s office in Heaven; it was all stark and sterile. But there was also a warmth here, buzzing against his Grace and settling close to his vessel’s skin. He could hear the distant crash and roar of thunderous waves on the shore and smell salt water. The strangest feeling though was a numb sensation crawling over his skin, something unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

There was a rustle in the corner and he spun to face the new threat. It was Death and the sight of him made Castiel swallow nervously. The entity was sitting on a low divan, one hand resting on his knee and looking amused to see him. 

“Hello, Castiel.”

“You…” He had to narrow his eyes a bit to see clearly through the haze in the air. “Why am I here? They need me.”

“Oh, you won’t be missed. They won’t even know you were gone.”

“Time’s stopped,” a female voice, familiar and powerful, drawled behind him and he turned to face Sheol. Dressed in black silk, she resembled a shadow moving through the white room. “We can do such things.”

“Why am I here?” Castiel demanded. He backed away slowly from both of them.

“What exactly is it that you plan to do, Castiel?” Death asked.

“Stop what she put into motion.” He glared at Sheol and she arched a brow.

Death followed his gaze. “This was not just her doing but your beloved Father’s.”

"God spoke to me," Castiel said and Death sighed, shaking his head.

"God has not cared what happens, only that his experiment may or may not be interrupted. So trust me when I tell you that God was not who spoke to you. He only recently decided that he has to take more interest in this.”

Confused, Castiel looked around the white room and then back at the entity.

"So why? You have all this omnipotent knowledge. Tell me why."

For the first time, Death smiled. “Because, Castiel, you broke the rules. Not just by bringing her back from the Lethe. But by caring for your natural enemy in the first place.”

“And your father broke his rules. Repeatedly.” Sheol stepped out. “So, in light of the fact that I may have to accept a loss, though I have one more attempt to use, I am willing to give you a choice bit of information. But I am going to ask you one thing. I will know if you are lying to me.”

Castiel stared at her as she approached him and put one hand on his chest.

“You love her. Does she love you?”

Castiel blinked at her, completely unprepared for that.

“Tick tock, Castiel.” Sheol tapped her fingers over his heart. “It should be an easy question.”

“Why does it matter?” he demanded back of her and Sheol smiled.

“Because it does. She’s always been an uncommon demon otherwise. But you think I’ll answer you with my reasons? Child, please.” Sheol turned her head on the side. “Did you know that that love is the one emotion I’ve always found intriguing?”

“Sister.” Death tapped his cane on the ground. “Get to the point.”

“I am waiting for Castiel’s answer.”

“I don’t speak for Meg.” He thought back to the last few weeks, to the weeks long before. Every flicker of her expression, the caustic way she’d respond to his affection, the slight slips of the tongue that had betrayed her, even the way he’d felt her no longer pull away from his comfort. “But she does.”

Sheol clapped her hands sarcastically. “How precious.”

Castiel gave her a confused look and looked at Death. The thin-faced man simply shrugged. “She is very tired.”

“So tell me, Castiel.” Sheol turned from him and began to walk a slow circle around the room. “What are you willing to do to save them? Your humans? Your demon?”

“Anything.”

She gave him a look and Death rolled his eyes. “So eager,” the entity muttered.

Castiel ignored that. “Though why should I trust you? You wanted to kill Nyx. Kill Meg.”

“Nyx?” Sheol’s head bent. “Nyx. Oh, that is a perfect name for what she is.”

“What is she?”

“A choice.” She smiled and her eyes glinted dangerously. “Everything is a balance and a choice. A shadow of something else, or someone else in this case.”

Castiel became aware of her approaching while Death went to stand behind him. 

“You can choose to rewind this all, so that the coming pain won’t happen. So that it all becomes nothing but a dream. One you relive in your darkest hours.” She reached out and touched his forehead and Castiel was thrown back into a multitude of flashbacks. Out of order and jumbled, it seemed that they were rewinding time before his eyes as voices stayed in his head and reminded him of all that had happened.

 _“I am doing this for Sam as well as you, Dean. Something is wrong.”_  

 **Flash**.

_“Clarence, what have you done?”_

**Flash**.

_“This sort of thing does not happen. Not between our kind. Ever.”_

**Flash**.

_“Lethe itself doesn’t deal in that good and evil thing. It doesn’t matter to her. What matters is purifying and protecting.”_

**Flash**.

_“Because she’s a demon and we all know they would love to get their hands on something like this.”_

**Flash**.

_“Where did you go? Where are you now?”_

**Flash**. 

_“I wanted you back and I’m going to see this through until you can fight with us again. Until you can forgive me.”_

**Flash**.

_"I do love you."_

**Flash.**

_“Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

He broke back from Sheol, trying to catch his breath as he stared at her. All of that. Erased from existence. Erased to the point where he’d left Meg outside the crypt with Sam, where she’d died at Crowley’s hand. He would never know of her death; he would simply run to another point in time where his life was slowly consumed by his mission to protect the tablet instead of protecting her and the Winchesters. Where things could and inevitably would fall apart in a very different way.

How differently it could turn out.

He would never know what it was like to be here.

He would lose so much more.

Castiel stared Sheol in the eye. “No.” 

Death looked at him. “Are you sure?” But one look at Castiel made him smile. “I see. You always do the unexpected, Castiel.”

The entity turned to his sister and she sighed, shaking her head and walking away until she evaporated completely. Castiel watched in open confusion and then turned towards Death.

“She…”

“Is not well. But no matter. That is my concern and God’s. Yours should be over your angels and friends. Lucifer is about to find you. Bringing with him all his power that you still don’t know how to use.”

“I will…” Castiel started, insulted by Death’s lack of faith but not surprised either.

“Likely get the others killed. And unfortunately, I have a slight investment in this now.” Death picked up his bag from the floor and opened it. “Now. You have bore Michael’s Grace inside of you. And interestingly, Sheol tied the Cage to his Grace, and to Lucifer’s.” 

He picked up the four keys to the Cage out of his bag and held the rings out to the angel. Castiel stared at them as if expecting them to bite him. 

“That’s too easy.”

“Smart angel. Of course it is. You have to be willing to die a little death yourself. Because something has to go with him into the Cage. His brother’s Grace, for example.” Death dropped the rings into Castiel’s hand. “Be sure it is the right Grace that goes with him, would you?”

“That’s…”

“Not so easy. Only someone of incredible power can separate your Grace from Michael’s now.” Death finished with a smirk. “Remember, Lucifer always has been arrogant and it just takes the right slip up for him to be thrown back in the Cage.” His dark eyes fixed on Castiel’s face. “Though you may not like what the slip up is, trust me, it is necessary.” 

~~

Castiel came back with a snap into his reality, one hand still clutching the rings. He had to shake his head a little to get himself back completely, slipping the rings into his pocket before he lost them. His skin felt strangely cold now outside of the Lethe, and he had to shift his shoulders a little, his suit jacket not warm enough. With a snap of his fingers, he rebuilt his coat and let its comforting weight settle close and warm around his body.

_Thank Father for that._

“Cas?” Dean shouted, coming up beside him with Sam just at his heels. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The angel glanced at them and then out at the demons slowly moving toward them. “I… You should be back with Meg.”

“Yeah, leaving you out where the demons can just swarm you, right?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Makes so much sense.”

“What matters is saving you and saving Sam, keeping Meg safe.” Castiel pulled out his angel sword and stared at the shining blade thoughtfully.

“Right.” Dean shook his head and looked at Sam. “Can you imagine what Meg will do to us?”

Sam nodded. “Why do you think I’m out here?”

“Dean, this isn’t your fight,” Castiel muttered as he watched the line of demons approach. He was no longer exhausted by his battle with Lucifer but his mind was split in what it had to do. He could feel Meg’s pain almost as if it was part of him, Nyx’s fear at what was happening, and his own hesitance frightened him.

_What had Sheol and Death done to him?_

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean picked up the old demon bomb he’d found in the Impala, his other hand holding Ruby’s knife. “It’s your fight and I’m making it mine.”

Castiel stared at him.

“Right, Sam?”

“Family and all that,” Sam agreed. He shook his head and hefted the salt round gun onto his shoulder. “Let’s do it. We’ve got to keep them from the house. Wear them down. If we can buy some time, then maybe we can figure out what to do.”

“If Lucifer shows, I need you both back at the house… and who is watching Meg?” Castiel demanded but before either brother could answer, Abaddon appeared before them. She simply zapped in, dressed in black leather and looking as wicked as ever. Her expression were actually amused as she stared at all three of them.

“Hello, boys.” She looked at the younger Winchester, licking her lower lip. “I take it Sam thought over my offer.”

“Not much of one,” Sam countered and she smirked.

“Let’s just do the math, okay? I have nearly five hundred demons at my back. All very eager to kill you all and take the demon you’re hiding to our Father. You have two hunters and one angel who looks a bit worse for wear as our Father wore him down nicely. I mean, yes, he could do some damage but not before I rip your pretty faces off.” Abaddon smirked, taking a few steps close so they could see the slant to her red lips and the vicious twist of her white teeth like fangs. “Could make this real easy, boys.”

"Really doubt that," Dean muttered.

“Leave,” Castiel warned and she arched her brow.

“I don’t think so, angel.”

 Beside Dean, Sam reached into his coat pocket and held tightly to the bottle he’d stuffed there at Meg’s instruction. Abaddon’s eyes never left Castiel.

“This is a shame,” she said mockingly.

“Yeah, it is.” Meg’s voice was alarming in the silence and they all turned to see her standing behind the Winchesters. She swayed a little on her feet, wrapped in a heavy coat and pale to the point of her skin being translucent, but her eyes were on Abaddon.

“Meg.” Castiel reached out to her and she ignored him to stand beside Sam.

“So glad you could join us,” Abaddon said with a grin.

“Figured it concerned me. Why not?” Meg answered and Castiel stepped back beside her. 

“You should be back there.”

She eyed him. “Pregnant. Not helpless.”

“Oh but she can’t go back, can she?” Abaddon stepped forward towards them. “Because she’s somehow decided to be… noble. She thinks she has a place here.”

Her disgust was open on her face.

“Maybe I’m just tired of hiding,” Meg thought aloud.

“Maybe. Doesn’t make this any less sweet.”

Abaddon lifted her hand in the air and clenched her fist. The demons behind her started to move slowly at her unspoken order and Dean eyed them nervously, stepping beside Sam. Castiel went to touch Meg, to get her back to the house, but the demon was reaching into Sam’s coat. Before he could stop her, she grabbed the bottle and sent it hurtling through the air into Abaddon.

The demon shrieked as her face and chest were coated in engine oil, her mouth hanging open in surprise. She mouthed bitch at the other demon and Meg glared back at her before she snapped her fingers. Instantly, the Queen of Hell was set afire and she howled in fury from the pain as the hiss of flames climbed up her body and started to scorch her meatsuit. Castiel grabbed Meg’s arm and pulled her back further as the demon’s body went careening around.

“Don’t think she was expecting that,” Dean muttered as Abaddon flickered out of sight.

“Just bought us some time, that’s all. She’ll come back.” They all eyed the horde again but they were paused, unsure what to do without their leader. Meg twined her fingers through Castiel. “We can get back and set up some wards, something. We came out to get you. Let’s go.”

He nodded and felt her step backwards, while he kept one eye on the demons and readied himself to zap them all back to the house.

Her startled gasp and the way his hand was gripped tightly made him think she’d felt another contraction. 

But then her hand let him go and he knew something was wrong even before he turned around.

“Clarence,” Meg whispered and he turned to see her being clutched tightly by Lucifer, his arm around her throat. The Archangel kissed the side of her head affectionately and then grinned at Castiel. The demon wasn’t fighting him, was barely moving. But the sight of her pained eyes her made him realize that it was more than just Lucifer’s hold keeping her from fighting.

It was loud, how he heard the slip of metal into flesh and the soft squelch of it being twisted. Eyes widening, he made a soft sound deep in his throat as Meg stared back at him. Her pained moan made him launch forward but Dean and Sam grabbed Castiel to hold him back when Lucifer held the angel sword up between them. He sliced it through the air, just missing Castiel’s face, and kept it up as a warning.

“You see, Castiel, all I had to do was be patient and I knew you would bring me to her.” He grinned as the other angel twisted against Dean’s arms. “It never was just about you.”

He dragged the bloody blade sharply down Meg’s cheek. “It was always about her and her little bastard. The blocks that were holding back the trial’s being finished. Holding her back.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean hissed and he let Castiel go.

“Ah ah,” Lucifer held Meg even tighter though her eyes were starting to droop from the blow he’d already given her. “Crowley killed you once, sweet Meg.” His mouth brushed her ear. “But this time? I get to do it in front of an angel who will be very upset about this. Take one last look, lovers. Make it worth it.”

He stabbed up with his angel sword straight into her abdomen and jerked it up in a killing blow.

Castiel’s scream exploded into the air and Dean and Sam had to hold their hands over their heads as his true voice escaped him.

Meg stared at him, blood bubbling up from her mouth, but she didn’t scream.

“You never did scream well, I guess,” the Devil whispered as he dropped her to the dirt like garbage.

That there were no sparks meant nothing to him.

He’d won. Her and her bastard were dead and this time they would stay dead. Lucifer checked her one last time but her eyes were sightless, her chest not moving as blood slowly pumped out of the deep wound.

Rolling his shoulders back and stretching, he turned with a grin to Castiel. “Come on, did you think this would have a happy ending?”

The moment their eyes met, he saw Castiel’s start to glow almost gold and the wings that suddenly appeared as lightning crashed across the sky were flared out. Lucifer sneered at the display but took a single step back.

There was only blind rage in Castiel now and he shot forward before the Winchesters could stop him. Lucifer was ready for him but the sheer strength behind Castiel now was overwhelming. The angels went flying through the air together, a drag of dirt following them as Castiel pinned Lucifer to the ground and threw him to the other side, his fist slamming into his face.

Dean and Sam stared in shock, Sam cocking the shotgun, when they heard the low hum of the demons starting behind them. Both turned to face the demons looking at them as they parted the line a little. A burnt looking Abaddon was slowly walking through the lines, her eyes black and her mouth parted in a snarl. Dean grabbed the demon bomb he still held and quickly Sam ignited it.

“Better work after all these months.” He nodded to Sam to back away and then spun a little, hurtling it through the air. Abaddon followed the path of it with her eyes and then looked back at Dean.

“You little fuc…”

The bomb twisted mid-air and the loud shriek of it igniting perfectly made every demon look up. The fuse burned out and then in a soft way the bomb landed in the centre of the horde. Dean retreated beside Sam just before the bomb exploded and sent a wave of light over the demons and a heat blast that caused them to shriek as those nearest were incinerated where they stood.

Flinging himself over Sam, Dean flattened himself out and felt the heat actually touch his back. Lifting his head just a little, he could see Castiel straddling Lucifer, fists a blur as he pummelled him until Lucifer tossed him off. The angels were throwing each other around the ground, causing massive ruts wherever they landed, and with each blow the earth seemed to shake.

“Cas,” he mouthed and he looked at Meg’s body. Her eyes were open and staring at the sky, but as he watched, they actually closed slowly. “Meg?”

A hand dove into his hair and wrenched him off of Sam and onto his back.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Abaddon chided as she straddled him, several demons at her back. “You never learn. Numbers aren’t your strong suit, are they?”

She slammed her fist into his jaw and he felt his teeth rattle in his head from the force of it.

“You never.” A blow to his nose, breaking it. “Ever.” Another, this time to his temple and making him almost black out. “Ever learn.”

Abaddon yanked him up close and planted a bloody kiss on his mouth, biting so hard into his lower lip that it split. “Do you?”

Before he could open his mouth, she punched him again, breaking his cheek bone. She did it again and again, until his face was swollen up and he could barely move, his body twitching as the demons held him down. 

Sam struggled to get to them and the demons that had been coming toward them snarled and leapt on him in a pile. The rest formed a loose half-circle around the rest, shouting encouragement for them to ripped apart. Abaddon took pleasure in Dean’s silence as she beat him closer and closer to death and Sam saw his brother’s swollen eyes dart over to him.

“Cas!” Sam shouted as he was dragged under and demons began to use him as a punching bag as well.

The angel was lost in his own battle, naked rage and anguish making his face twisted and his eyes glowed with power. Lucifer, bleeding from his head, reached between them and a flash of light exploded Castiel off him. The angel went flying back through the air and landed in the pile of demons. They shrieked and grabbed at him, snarling like animals, so lost in their bloodlust. Castiel’s hands sent out beams of light and they struck the demons, disintegrating them and he spun on his heel, focussing on the ones grabbing Sam. But before he could do anything, Lucifer waved his hand and sent him to his back again.

Nearby, Abaddon laughed in delight as Dean groaned out Sam’s name.

“You know.” Lucifer spat out a mouthful of black blood. “You had it in you all along. Just like little Sammy and Dean there.”

Castiel picked himself up and stared at the Devil.

“How does it feel, though, Castiel? To lose what you love and realize you are hopelessly alone and outnumbered?” Lucifer asked, almost sounding sincere. “I can imagine how it feels. Trust me.”

Wiping at his mouth, Castiel stared at Lucifer and realized the damage he’d done to him. Lucifer’s vessel was a mass of blood and bruises, much like Castiel’s. But unlike Castiel, he wasn’t able to heal as fast.

His hopeless rage was making him more powerful than Lucifer.

“Come on.” Lucifer spread his arms out to the side. “Surrender is much easier. What else do you have to fight for? Your hunters are nearly dead. You’ll be all alone. Give me Sam Winchester and I’ll let you and Dean die without too much torture.”

The cajoling note in Lucifer’s voice made Castiel breathe harder, struggling to control his anger and urge to attack the Archangel. Lucifer was still more dangerous than anything else he’d known. Instead, Castiel looked at where Meg still lay, forgotten and still, and the grief was so blinding, so painful, that he nearly dropped his sword.

“Meg,” he whispered. “Nyx.”

Lucifer grinned in delight but slowly the grin faded as the storm that had been holding off exploded around them. This storm was unnatural and he looked up at the sky. Torrential rain began to fall as the sky turned black, as the lightning struck the ground close to them. With a loud snap and hiss, bolts of lightning struck several demons and they screamed as they exploded in a spray of ash. 

In their place, angels began to appear.

Lucifer stared at the other angels in surprise, at the red haired angel who grabbed hold of Abaddon off of Dean and tossed her back into her small army. The soaked demons stared in surprise at the ring of angels now surrounding their still massive group, and Abaddon looked over at Lucifer for orders. The rest of the demons let go of the Winchesters and Sam grabbed hold of Dean, supporting his weight as they limped towards Castiel.

Castiel wiped at his mouth again and faced Naomi, rain running into his eyes and through his bloodstained clothes. Slowly being soaked herself, she smiled at him through the rain. 

“We remembered what we were meant to do,” she offered by way of explaining and he stared at her in shock. “We were meant to protect life. Creation. Your child, Castiel, is a life.”

Her eyes fixed on Lucifer, not shocked by his appearance. “We protect our Father’s creations. We threw you out of Heaven. We can cast you down again.”

“Oh, a little Daddy’s girl.” He reached out and his power caught her, sending her to her knees. The other angels pulled their swords but none moved further. Abaddon looked at them all and saw Lucifer’s furious expression, one that chilled her. “I think I need a good example of an angel defying an Archangel.”

He snapped his fingers but nothing happened. Nothing but the sound that echoed through the rain. Naomi still gasped for her breath and stared at his face without any fear.

But it was Castiel who caught his attention. The angel was staring behind him.

“Let me guess. Someone is behind me?” he asked and he turned around abruptly, sword lifting in defence.

Meg stood behind him and he could only stare in shock. She stared up at him, black eyes unreadable.

“Oh Lucifer,” she muttered as if disappointed. With a casual wave of her hand, she sent him to his knees and Naomi felt her power return to her. Castiel swallowed and whispered her name.

Meg’s eyes closed and her head did a twitch to the side. Her body did an odd twist as she took another step forward and Castiel cradled his side as he stared at her. Lucifer managed to get back to his feet and he raked his eyes over her tiny soaked body.

“You aren’t her.” He could feel it.

“Not true,” Meg’s voice had a strange echo behind it, as if there was a feedback and another voice echoing hers. “We’re one and the same. Thanks to him.”

Her gaze swung towards Castiel and he could only stare back and realize that Meg had been saved. That Death had in a way manipulated them all to make Sheol interfere. 

Lucifer knew immediately that something was very wrong. This wasn’t an easy target. This wasn’t just Meg. This was the only being he had left to fear.

“Come now, dear boy. Try again.” She walked towards Lucifer and reality began to bend around her slowly. Even Sam and Dean, slowly recovering, saw what it did to the flat ground around her, causing it to buckle and the ground to turn black. “I warned you. I had warned you to find a way without touching Meg.”

“I was following your orders.”

“No. You disobeyed them. As always.” She held out her hand and Castiel felt the rings he’d carried leave his suit coat. “I warned you, Lucifer.”

“No.” He snarled and backed up as she tossed the rings to the ground. “It’s not fair.”

As Dean and Sam watched, a familiar black hole grew in the burned grass, causing all of them to back away. The wind that tore through the air was familiar and Sam felt every dark memory of his own descent into Hell come back to his mind. He shuddered and gripped Dean tighter, feeling his brother return the tight hold on his arm.

“You won’t be alone though,” she was saying. Her fingers snapped and though he resisted visibly, Lucifer came beside her until he was within reach. “I am willing to give you something.”

She looked over at Castiel and he found himself stepping towards the Meg creature. Until he stood so close he could feel her body and feel her hand pressed against his chest, just over his vessel’s heart. She smiled at him and for a second he could almost see Meg in there with whatever it was controlling her.

“I saved her for you this time. Just this time. How many deaths should she suffer for you, Castiel?”

Before he could answer, her hand dove into his chest and he screamed in pain, frozen by her power. The Grace he’d stolen from Michael, once so entwined with his own, was slowly being ripped away from him and her other hand stole into Lucifer’s chest. He didn’t scream at first, not until her fingers wrapped around his Grace and started to yank. 

It was like seeing a line of sewing slowly being unravelled, white tendrils of light slowly being pulled free of their bodies in long ropy strands. Dean and Sam couldn’t look at it head on, focussed instead on Castiel’s agonized face. Abaddon shouted at her demons to close their eyes but the angels still watched, fascinated.

The two angels screamed as she worked, but the Meg creature simply pushed her power into them until their screams began to echo through the air. The rings still on the ground glowed bright and Dean and Sam had to shield their eyes as a brilliant light filled the air. There was a loud pop and crackle and the sound of a scream that was full of agony.

When the light disappeared, Dean looked again through his swollen eyes and felt Sam still gripping his arm tight. Castiel was on his knees in front of Meg, swaying a little though his eyes still glowed and shadows of wings still were at his back. Lucifer was gone, the rings with him, and the black hole in the ground was gone and replaced by green grass once more. 

Behind the Winchesters, Abaddon and her demons stared as the angels surrounding them shifted uneasily in the rain.

Meg rolled her head on her shoulders and then turned away, shakily walking a few steps. Castiel stood up and blocked Dean and Sam from the wave of pain she was sending their way to keep them from interfering.

Slowly, they could hear two voices starting to grow louder as she spoke to herself slowly.

“Is this worth an absent father?” she was saying to herself, that monotone voice of Sheol clear and loud. 

“What have you done to me?” Meg whimpered and turned around.

“We’re one and the same, Meg. I chose you because of what you could be if you only remembered.” Sheol’s mind link deepened with the demon until they were one again. “I can bring you peace if you want.”

She made their hand steal down to her belly, still holding the knife. “Choose me. One last time.”

Meg’s eyes dragged open slowly to meet Castiel’s. He stared at her and then stepped forward when she lifted the blade point down against her stomach. 

“Meg, please,” he whispered, moving slowly towards her. If it happened again he knew he could lose his mind. “Please no.”

In retaliation, Sheol did what she had never done to the demon before. A hot flash of agony ripped through the demon and sent her sprawling to the ground, knife still hovering over her belly. For every whisper Castiel made of her name, the sharper and more painful the flashes were, until she was lying in the rain, weeping for relief as she brought the knife to her belly. The pain relented and Meg looked up at Castiel, her eyes black with despair.

“I’m sorry.”

He stared at her, wanting to cry out her name because for a moment he’d thought he had seen her there.

But the knife fell uselessly from her hand and she shook her head. “No. I made my choice.”

Almost instantly she sagged back down, all strength gone. A light flickered out over her body and then was gone. Taking with it that strange powerful presence and leaving only the demon behind that Castiel could see. After a moment her eyes opened and she began to cough loudly.

“Damn.”

The storm overhead began to coat them with more rain, with something more cold and chilling, and Castiel looked at Dean and Sam. Dean gazed back at him from bruised eyes and they nodded at each other before the angel turned away to go to the demon.

“Meg,” he muttered and he crept over to her, kneeling down and picking her up into his arms. His hand pushed her soaked hair away from her face and he stared at her true face with open affection, seeing the demonic soul and darkness and loving it all the more. “You’re still in there.”

She was leaning against his knee and she gave him a sleepy eyed look, her old prickly humour showing in the slant of her grin. “Still here, Castiel. I never left. Not really. I was just behind some sort of… haze she protected me behind.”

“Nyx?”

“I protected her,” she muttered and he touched her stomach, feeling that throb of life there. “We protected each other.”

Unsure why the relief that flooded through him felt so good yet so painful, he bent his head and kissed her, tasting rainwater on her lips and her familiar darkness. She clutched at his soaked shirt and he felt himself shudder again at her touch, at how utterly alive she felt. With a broken sound, he broke the kiss and pressed his head to her shoulder, feeling her arms hold him just as tightly back. 

Behind him Naomi turned away to face the demons.

Abaddon snarled at her. “Come on, pretty bird, we really need to fight this out.”

Naomi nodded. “If we must.”

Dean jumped when he realized the angels were now surrounding them protectively while Castiel stayed crouched beside Meg. One of them, Inias he recognized, reached out and touched his forehead, healing him with a foreign push of power. He blinked and worked his once broken jaw curiously before grinning at the angel in thanks. 

“Go.” Naomi turned to face Castiel. “We will protect you both and the demon while she heals.”

Castiel smoothed the demon’s hair out of her face and studied her. “She was ready to…”

Meg gave a low, sudden moan. “That never really stopped. Just delayed.”

Naomi’s eyes widened in understanding. “Go then.”

Abaddon glared at her. “You just think you’ll win.”

The angel smirked. “I know we will.”

“Get her back to the house,” Castiel ordered, lifting Meg into his arms. She fought weakly as he passed her over to Sam but he ignored her. He touched where the gap of a wound should have been in her body. Smooth skin met his touch and he looked at her, as if unable to believe she was still alive.

But Meg’s eyes were half shut and she was cursing under her breath.

“Go,” he ordered Sam, voice hardening to the tone of a soldier going to war.

“But, Cas, you…”

“I need to fight with them. Go.”

Sam brought Meg closer into his own body to keep her steady and with Dean at his back they began to trudge back over the soaked grass to the house. 

Two demons went to follow and in response, Castiel appeared behind them, gripping them by their necks. By the time they turned to fight his hands slammed down onto their faces and he quickly burned them from their bodies. Abaddon’s eyes widened, blood lust still making her look maniacal, and she turned to Naomi. The angel stared back at her and an angel sword slid out from her sleeve. 

The demon grinned at the sight of it. “I love a good fight.”

“Good. So do I,” Naomi said as Castiel stepped beside her. She glanced at her brother and he nodded to her, the renewed purpose radiating from him making him appear far more fierce than any Archangel.

As one, the angels attacked the demons.

~~~

Meg was taking in deep breaths by the time they reached the house but Dean kept up a low conversation, mostly to distract her. 

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“I found Jesus,” she snapped, grabbing Sam’s coat tight as he nudged the door open. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Was it….”

“It wasn’t just her. It was me. And Nyx.”

Dean frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Dean?” Sam looked at him over his shoulder. “Maybe you can leave the questions till later.”

As if to punctuate his words, Meg gave a low cry as she felt another contraction like the one she’d felt outside. “Okay, this is…ow, fuck… no… Damn, all that rest and she still wants out. Son of a bitch!”

Dean swallowed and looked at Sam. His brother shrugged and lifted Meg up tighter to him as he started up the steps, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to get him to put her down.

“Get me towels from the closet and my laptop.”

“We just battled demons and now we’ve got to do this?” Dean followed him up the stairs after he’d grabbed the laptop. “Right. Leave it to Meg and her timing.”

“Shut up!” Meg shouted. “Goddamn it!”

Both men flinched and Sam finished climbing the stairs to the bedroom. Putting the laptop on the small table,  Dean quickly ran to the closet down the hall at Sam’s order.

“This is really, really sudden. Can’t say I memorized what to do,” Sam muttered as he put her down on the bed. Meg swatted at him to get away but he gave her a look and tossed the heavy comforter off the bed. 

“You think it’s sudden?” She hissed and began to quickly shed her clothes, ignoring his uncomfortable wince. She grabbed one of the dry shirts on the floor and pulled it on, but even Sam could see the sweat starting to glimmer on her skin. “Just so… warm…”

She grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around herself. Sam could only watch as the demon fell down on the bed, bewildered by the change in her. It had just been minutes since she’d been, well, possessed.

It was likely a sign of how far along she was that she wasn’t lingering over it.

He opened his laptop and stared at the page he’d left on. Reading it, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and carefully sat down beside Meg on the bed.

“I… I think I have to check you.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Say what?” He glanced down between her legs and the demon gave him a horrified glare. “Oh no, you’re not.”

He pointed to the screen. “You have a better idea? Are you really that flexible to check yourself?”

The demon opened her mouth to answer as she read the page but the snarky answer became a soft groan at the same time a loud pop was heard. Almost reluctantly, Sam looked away from her and stared at the soaked sheet between her legs. Meg looked as well and then back up at him. They both realized what it meant.

Just coming into the room, Dean made a soft curse when he saw what had happened.

“Oh… shit.”

~~

Standing in the Lethe, Sheol looked up at the stormy sky and exhaled sharply. Meg’s defiance had lasted to the end, as Death said it would, and now she had nothing she could do but wait. 

She could feel the pull now, so sharp, that it was a part of her and she smiled.

“Just another change,” she said. “That’s all.”

The souls wandering the Lethe paused just long enough to stare at their Keeper as she stood in her gazebo. Together, they all watched the storm begin to erupt in the normally peaceful Lethe.

~~

“You’re taking forever, Sam,” Dean snapped. “Hurry up.”

Kneeling at the end of the bed with a clean towel, Sam looked up at his brother and glared. It had been hard enough to convince Meg to let them check her, hard enough to keep her calm, and Dean’s sarcasm wasn’t helping.

So instead, Sam decided to go with something he knew would shut Dean up.

“You think this is easy?” he asked incredulously. “Fine. You check.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “I don’t have to do that.”

“No, I insist,” Sam snapped and he stood up, gesturing at Meg. “Since you think it is easy.”

Meg was barely making a noise as Dean nervously turned back the clean sheet Sam had spread over her legs. The demon was now calm, taking in deep breaths in rhythm. Her eyes were shut, her brow wrinkled in concentration, and just judging by the general calm in her expression, he could have figured her for asleep. Taking in a deep breath, he looked under the sheet.

When he saw the blood and what Sam had been checking, he jerked his head up and his brother waited patiently.

“Well?”

“I…” Dean pointed. “That…”

Sam squinted at him. “You okay? You’re kind of pale.”

“That… was…”

Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped face forward onto the bed beside Meg. The demon’s eyes opened automatically and she glared at his face beside her on the bed. She looked back at Sam and he was struggling not to laugh. Especially when he saw how ready to kill Meg was.

“You’re kidding me. How much blood do you guys deal with on a daily basis?” she asked furiously and Sam shrugged and bit back his grin. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Guess he wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m the one having the kid. The least he can do is suck it up.”

Meg gave the unconscious hunter a rough shove and toppled him off the bed, waking him up when his head struck corner of the night table. His embarrassed grunt as he picked himself up didn’t give her any satisfaction. Her fingers sunk into the thin sheet on her legs and she hissed in a breath as another closer contraction clamped down on her. Sam saw her face and checked the clock.

“You’re closer than before.”

She was panting for breath. “You think? Fucking A plus for you and figuring shit out.”

Her eyes closed and she slumped forward as far as she could. Awkwardly, Sam reached out and touched her leg, squeezing her ankle to try to comfort the demon. 

“This shouldn’t hurt so much. I’m a demon! I’ve been through thousands of years of torture!” Meg groaned and she panted for breath. Dean tried to think of some way to comfort her, knowing how the tortures in Hell had felt.

“Well, when you think about it, something the size of a baby exiting out of something the size of your…” Dean started and shut himself up at Meg’s murderous look. “I think I feel sick again.”

“I should do this by myself.” Meg’s eyes went black. “Better than you two dorks.”

Sam sighed and passed her a towel to wipe the sweat off her neck. She was shaking now and he pressed his thumb into the pulse on her leg, feeling the meatsuit’s blood pumping fiercely. 

“Your heart rate is up,” he whispered to himself. “When did your water break again?”

“When I get a chance to record it next time, I will. I thought you were paying attention.” Her head dropped low and Dean nervously looked at the laptop Sam had brought up. His face closed over a bit, a look Sam knew meant he was ready to assume control. Dean nodded and clapped his hands once.

“Ok, I got this. I think. I just need to read it again and we’ll be good.”

Sam and Meg both looked at him.

“Look, how hard can it be?”

“You just fainted at the sight of Meg’s…” Sam cleared his throat. “You know.”

“First time jitters. I’ll grin and bear it for the sake of Meg shutting up for a bit about doing this herself.” Dean squinted and read the warning signs on the page Sam had brought up. “Gonna be soon, I bet.”

“Need Cas here,” Meg muttered. 

“He had to get the angels…”

“He needs to be here!” Meg shouted and then broke off into a groan. She sucked in a deep breath. Sam frowned and leaned forward to hear her muttering. “Needs to. I need him.” 

There was a strange fear in her voice and Sam nervously looked at Dean, who was clearly memorizing instructions to himself. 

“I need to just… I need to breathe,” Meg muttered and she moved away from them both, hands on her stomach. Her legs swung away from them. 

“Dean, come on. Let’s give Meg a bit of alone time. We’ll call Cas.”

“This is gonna be…. interesting.” Dean sighed and glanced at the window. “Storm’s getting worse.”

Neither noticed as they left that Meg curled herself into a small ball and muttered Castiel’s name.

~~

Staring at the bodies of now unpossessed humans, Castiel exhaled sharply and stretched his nearly exhausted Grace out. The angels, fewer in number now, bracketed him with Naomi at his side, and across from them, Abaddon stood. There were more demons now but they were rapidly losing their faith in her. These were the weaker ones. The rain felt ice cold against his back as Castiel stepped forward.

“Leave.”

The demon grinned, broken teeth flashing at him though she had lost more of her bravado. “Don’t think so, sugar.”

Castiel made to answer but he felt the soft niggle in the back of his head. A murmured prayer, desperate and familiar, pained. Followed by another from Dean and Sam.

He looked at Naomi and the angel nodded in understanding.

“Go. We will take care of them.”

“Take care of us?” Abaddon demanded but Castiel was already gone. “You don’t have as many angels as we have demons.”

Naomi gave her a smile. “These weren’t my only angels left, demon.”

She snapped her fingers and lightning struck the ground again. More angels, the ones that had been hidden around the world and resisting the call of Lethe, appeared.

Abaddon’s eyes widened at the sight of fresh reinforcements but Naomi remained cold and aloof. 

“Flee. Or die.”

~~

Meg curled up on her side, struggling to find a way to ease the pain. Nyx’s fear, a real and tangible thing now, was increasing the pain and she wondered if it was a sign. Wondered if something else was wrong.

Where _was_ he?

Fingers digging into the sheet over her legs, she wondered if he was dead. If the angels had turned on him, if the demons had succeeded, if…

Soft fingers drifted through her hair and she felt a pair of lips touch her cheek. “ _I only wanted your peace, my dove,”_ Sheol’s soft voice murmured in her ear and she opened her eyes to see only the bedside lamp. The comfort was instantly gone and she groaned, turning over and pressing her face into the pillow.

The fear was real now and the pain moving closer and closer, the heaviness in her womb reaching the point of agony.

Why the hell had she let this happen?

 _Needed to happen. Not just for you but for the angels and demons,_ a different, male and smug voice muttered in her ear and she looked back to see the shadows flickering. Overhead, the skylight was brilliantly lit by the lightning and she sucked in a deep breath at the sight. 

Smoke shot through the sky through the skylight and she watched pure light chase it, as if angels were chasing demons, and she sank her fingers into her stomach, wanting to stop that pain from reaching higher. She shifted forward and pushed up from the bed, teeth clenching as a contraction rippled through her womb.

The hysterical thought that she could be in trouble, that this time there was no out, pricked at her a little.

The door opened and the light flicked on.

“Son of a bitch, what are you doing out of bed?” Dean demanded from the doorway and she winced, covering her eyes against the too bright of light.

But the arms picking her up weren’t Dean or Sam’s. The strength was something she knew intimately, the crackle of power under the skin comforting, and even the press of cloth on her cheek was something familiar.

“Clarence?”

She heard the brief murmur of her name in answer and she lifted her head to see his profile half-hidden in the light’s glare.

“You waited,” he said in a perfunctory way, sounding amused by it.

Something strange and nearly human touched her and she latched her arms around his neck as he continued to pull her up on the bed. When her nose brushed his neck she could smell blood on him, demon, human and angel, and smell something else that wasn’t of this world. Something that reminded her of Lethe, of water and heat.

“Meg.” His arms tightened around her, mouth brushing her ear. “I’m here.”

Sam cleared his throat. “We’re here too, you know.”

“Don’t care,” Meg muttered in answer but she pulled back to see Castiel staring at her with that unfathomable look and strange smirk of his. “Stop that.”

He simply fixed her legs on the bed and gingerly checked her pale skin. “You’re cold.”

Her eyes drooped a little as the heat pulsing off him soothed the pain. “I thought…”

He waited patiently but her loud groan made him grip her tighter. “Meg?”

“I think it’s about to happen.” She hissed. “Whether I want to or not. Chitchat later, feathers.”

He looked up at Dean and Sam, both of them seeing the need in his eyes. Exhausted as he was, he wasn’t about to let her go. Sam nodded and quickly brought his laptop back in, Dean grabbing a few blankets and towels. 

“Thank you for waiting,” Castiel muttered against her hair as he pulled her up on the beside him. 

“Oh sure. It’s been a cakewalk,” Meg snapped back. Her eyes shut and she supported herself as he sat just behind her, discarding his coat and tossing it onto the armchair. Dean and Sam glanced at each other, wondering at the gesture, and then Meg’s curses drew their attention back to her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Dean slowly settled at the end of the bed and helped Meg plant her feet on the mattress. Sam stared at him and saw the ripple of disgust and fascination in his eyes.

“She wasn’t kidding,” Dean said. He looked up at Meg and their eyes met. “Don’t take this any of this personally, got it?”

“Considering I’m…” She groaned and reached out to grip Castiel’s fingers in hers. “Doing the hard work, shut up.”

Dean grinned and snapped his fingers at Sam. “Come on, Sam. Hurry up!”

Meg’s low cry was pitched so perfectly that the rumble of thunder in the distance echoed it. Letting her slowly break his fingers as fast as he could heal them, Castiel felt every part of her pain in an unexpectedly intimate way. He could feel, nearly smell, the agony and fear as acutely as he could smell the blood.

He hadn’t been prepared to actually feel afraid for Meg.

“She’s bleeding too much,” Dean muttered and he glanced at the laptop. “I think. Cas?”

“This might hurt,” the angel whispered to her, reaching out and brushing his hand over her stomach. She laughed, a hysterical note edging her voice. 

“You think that’s bad? Really, Clarence?” He shook his head and tightened his arms around her to support her as she lurched forward again. “You know how bad I wish I could smoke out right now?”

“I know,” he answered, struggling to use his exhausted Grace to force her meatsuit’s arteries to obey and heal. Her own power was so focussed on getting through this that it was no longer obeying her. “Just a little longer.”

“Kid’s moving fast,” Sam said, watching the clock.

“Push,” Dean snapped at Meg. 

It wasn’t just Meg’s fear Castiel could feel now. The fear from Nyx was so strong that he kept his hand on Meg’s stomach. Her hand latched onto his and held it there as she cried out again.

“I told you I hated you lately?” she demanded when she was able to catch her breath and he shrugged.

“It has been a few hours.”

“I’d really like to rewind this,” she was panting as she spoke, “so next time I take a male vessel and you get the female, so I can knock you up.”

Before he could think of a reply, she was slumping against him and he felt her clenching up. Dean was muttering to himself and something he said made Sam go wide-eyed. Dean ducked his head down and Castiel could only see the way his hands disappeared as well. The hunter was doing something and Castiel felt Meg’s discomfort instantly.

“Dean?” Castiel demanded just as she relaxed and started pushing again.

“Got the head coming already, she was turned a bit. That’s why it’s gotten messy. Just so you know, this is one big- **big** \- favour you are owing me, Cas. I’m gonna have to scrub my hands raw after this,” Dean said, rambling to keep himself focussed. “This is messed up. I’m helping a demon give birth.”

“How do… you think I feel?” Meg snapped back and her body lurched a little as she sat up. “It…”

She cried out and Castiel felt a ripple go through her lower body. “Maybe talking right now is a poor decision,” he muttered against her ear.

“I’m going to kill you someday,” she gasped.

“I’ll let you. Push.”

“What Cas said. Push with the contractions, that’s what the page says.”

“Fuck you, and fuck some stupid blogger, I’m the one actually doing this!”

“Then suck it up and push, damn it. Stop arguing with us,” Dean snapped and they all heard a squelch. His eyes shut a little in disgust. “Yeah, gonna owe me big time.”

Still wide-eyed, Sam handed him a clean towel and took away one that was dark with fluid.

Meg’s eyes closed, her jaw setting and Castiel felt her fingers dig so sharp into his hand that the skin broke. His other hand stayed on her stomach, repairing the damage as it was done. He could feel each time she pushed and each time more movement went through her.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Dean muttered. He was talking to himself to keep calm and he slipped his hand down from her thigh as Meg pushed again. “Okay, this time I mean it, Meg. You push, I catch.”

His green eyes flicked up at her and he grinned. “Miss the rack now?”

“Fuck you have no idea,” Meg moaned. Her moan escalated to a sharp cry and her hands clenched into fists. Castiel closed his eyes and felt the strain in her body as she went whipcord tight against him. Sam quickly grabbed another towel, one of the last in the pile, and knelt beside Dean. With his other hand, he grabbed Castiel’s coat and held it ready as well. 

“Come on,” Meg was muttering to herself.  Pressing his head against her shoulder, Castiel gripped her tightly. Her hand grabbed his wrist and clenched hard.

“Push,” Dean ordered and with his arms around her Castiel felt her actually do so with her entire body. Her back arched and bowed and he felt the actual real strength she hid so well in her body, the pure power that he’d never thought of.

“Again,” Dean snapped when Meg slumped a little and she actually screamed, eyes going black to try to conceal the pain. Sam reached out with the towel between her legs and Castiel felt her head tilt back, her back still bowed and her body so tight he thought she might shatter. Fingers splayed on her stomach, he felt for that power and found nothing. 

He saw Dean start to tell the demon to push but his mouth snapped shut with an audible click as Meg groaned. All the tension went out of her as she fell backwards into Castiel and let his hand go. The room went still and quiet for a heartbeat.

The silence in the room was broken by the piercing wail of a baby and the loud crack of lightning across the sky.

 


	22. Biblical (When Demons Change)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angels and demons continue their battle for control as Castiel and Meg cope with the sudden change. Desperate to save Sam, Dean makes a choice that could affect them for the rest of their lives. As the Lethe begins to close off from existence, the consequences may be devastating.

**In the Lethe**

**Part 14: Biblical (When Demons Change)**

The room felt tense, filled with a sense of expectation and hope that no one dared admit to as they waited for another cry to rip through the air. The rain was hitting the roof in torrents now, shaking the siding and pounding against the glass panes, but nothing could break the silence in the room. Dean stared at his hands and no matter how desperately Castiel looked at him, he didn’t look up. Sam was wide-eyed and looking at Dean with a mixture of admiration and surprise.

Meg sagged a little, her face pulled into a grimace, and her nails dragged down the bedspread slowly. She tore gouges into it as her body did another small twist before she relaxed.

Behind her, Castiel waited and let her arms go. His eyes didn’t leave the Winchesters. Afraid he would miss something.

As they held their collective breath, a loud furious scream came again. The storm outside seemed to break into more thunderous claps, more lightning strikes that hit the trees closest to the safe house. Even though the walls of the house separated them, Castiel could sense the angels and demons pausing. 

But it was all forgotten.

No one spoke as the screams became angry cries. The ear-splitting sounds continued as they sat there, just listening to them, until Dean seemed to snap out of it first. He muttered something sharp at his brother and scooted down, murmuring softly to what he held in his hands. Sam knelt down beside him again and handed him the last of the towels and the coat. He bent his head, quickly fixing the coat and towel in his hands as he gingerly held the tiny baby in his hands while Sam grabbed two tiny clamps they’d found in their gear. Meg’s panting breath was echoed by the baby’s cries but neither hunter looked up as they followed the instructions they memorized.

It was when everything was broken and done, once Sam’s affinity with checking things multiple times was done, that Dean leaned back a bit. He adjusted his arms a little and smirked as Sam helped him up. When he stood, he was holding a wet and tiny newborn girl, her face scrunched up and her arms waving in the air as she struggled to cry as loud as she could.

“You got a healthy looking kid here. Jesus, and she’s got lungs,” he said as she continued to cry, wincing at the angry cries. Castiel looked over at him but Sam and Dean were struggling to fix everything, Sam giving him a wide-eyed but nervous smile. Castiel watched, transfixed by the sight of Dean and Sam seeming so gentle when sometimes he knew they were anything but. Then his eyes landed on the still wet newborn and he opened his mouth, not able to speak.

“Tired, Clarence. I think that wore me out.”

In his arms, he felt the demon turn a little. Meg was starting to drift away when Castiel was able to tear his eyes away from Dean to look at her. Her dark eyes lifted limply to his and he smiled.

“She’s here.”

“Good,” Meg muttered without actually seeming to care, eyes shutting. “I was tired of waiting. Now I’m just worn out.”

Smiling, he slid his arms around her waist and felt her respond a little before her breathing evened out. When he ran his hand over her face, he could feel her healing herself. The snap of thorny power was furious, as if the demon was angry she’d been hurt, but he wisely said nothing. The amount of blood she’d lost had been unexpected and he move from behind her to lay her out a little on his legs. Castiel looked away from her ashen complexion when he heard Sam muttering something to Dean.

Dean grunted and chuckled as the baby continued to cry.

“Come on, you, time to see the world,” the hunter was saying, letting her cry loudly. He gingerly lifted the furious child further up close to his body, wiping at her wet skin with the remaining towel, and glanced at Castiel. The angel’s eyes were only for the baby. Dean’s hands were massive compared to the tiny body and he held her gently so that her slippery body couldn’t fall. Still holding the nearly unconscious Meg, the angel stared back wide-eyed at Dean and the baby as his friend kept her safe and secure.

For someone who killed for a living, who knew a hundred ways to torture a victim, Dean could be gentle when he wanted to. He spoke softly and adjusted his arms. The towel was slowly wrapped around the baby and Castiel could see tiny arms beating at the air as she cried, the grey look to her skin alarming.

Dean noticed his concern. 

“This is normal supposedly. Check Meg. I’ll get this one cleaned up,” he ordered, slipping back into his usual command. He didn’t even wait for them to answer before he left. Sam grabbed the sheet from around Meg’s waist and quickly helped Castiel lay her out before they set about working on her a little. He ignored his exhaustion and slight distraction, losing himself in following instructions he knew to finish up. 

Running his hands over her body, Castiel checked her sluggish attempts to heal and looked at her face. How fast she had dropped into sleep worried him.

The demon was deathly still even when he dressed her in an old button down and Sam glanced up at Castiel. “Is she…”

“Blood loss. What she is though is healing her. I think.”

“She was in labour for a long time, Cas. Those contractions started when we were at the diner. I think she is worn out.” Sam fixed the blanket tighter around her, removing the bloody sheets and tossing them into a pile in the corner of the room, and he turned to watch the angel. Castiel ran his hands over her body again, checking the way her instinctive power were trying to heal. Her power responded to his angrily, as if it was warning his Grace to back off, and he sighed, pressing his palm against her cheek again. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised before straightening up to see Sam watching him. There was something in the Winchester’s expression that made the angel think he was laughing at him a little. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said but he shrugged. “This night has officially been one for the records.”

They both looked at the small room across the hall, where Dean had set up an old plastic basin they’d found the night before. Rolling his eyes affectionately, Sam left Castiel with Meg and leaned against the doorframe to watch his brother. Castiel kept half of his attention on Meg, feeling her slipping into sleep under his touch. But something in Dean’s voice drew him and he gave her one last look before following Sam to the door. He could hear Dean talking to the squalling newborn and her cries were angry as he cleaned her gently. 

“Welcome to the cold world, I know. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

Castiel looked curiously at Sam who shrugged and grinned. 

“He likes babies.”

Dean finished swaddling her tighter in Castiel’s coat, muttering that he’d have to find some cleaner blankets, as Sam and Castiel both came up beside him. Under Dean’s gentle washing, her skin was soft-looking, nearly translucent in its pink and peach colours. She looked dry but still unhappy, crying and trying to move her tiny fists in the air. Typical of a newborn, everything about her seemed tiny from her nearly closed eyes to the fists and toes she had clenched up. 

All three men stared at her as he laid her down on the low table. Dean glanced at Castiel, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her, and then looked at his brother. 

“We just did that, Sam.”

“I am still in shock.” He shifted. “I mean. Meg’s thing. Not that it is our thing.”

They both realized how it sounded and Dean looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah. In shock over Meg’s thing. So is Cas. Right, Cas?”

“Right,” Castiel muttered and he reached out, his fingers almost shaking before he let them glide onto her soft skin. His hand seemed impossibly large as he let it rest on her tiny body. He could feel the fragility and utter newness of her. Everything about her was so small that the angel was aware of his own fear that he might hurt her when he touched her. Her cries were still angry, and he had the faint niggling sensation in the back of his mind that it was because she’d been so warm and now she was in this cold world. She didn’t like being cold. She was scared.

Dean seemed to catch on to what she wanted before Castiel did and he lifted her up gently, rubbing her gently to get her warm. She started to cry out louder and he hushed her ineffectively. He folded the coat about tighter around her to keep her warm and ignored her crying.

“Already has her mother’s lungs, that’s for sure,” Dean said but no one answered him. Castiel stared at her face, at the way her tiny features scrunched up and that tiny mouth puckered to let out another yell.

He’d not expected to find that beautiful and he had seen so much in his long life.

“Dean, ah… give the baby to Cas.” Sam was grinning at his brother as he managed to get her to stop crying so loudly. Dean looked so damn happy taking care of the baby it was absurd.  “She’s his daughter.”

His brother shook himself a little. He nearly lost himself, happily, in taking care of the newborn once he had realized how normal and helpless she was. She made a small sound and he could have sworn he saw her arms lifting a little towards Castiel.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Right. Just getting her warm.” Dean balanced her carefully and gave Castiel a look. “Okay. Arms out. 3 and 9.”

Castiel blinked and did as he was told.

"No, you have to support her neck better when you take her. Babies don’t have great neck muscles.”

Dean’s fussing took a few moments before Castiel was allowed to hold his daughter the ‘perfect way’ on his own. Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back a bit to watch.

The angel didn’t even notice.

He was holding his daughter. His. 

It was so surreal that he had to tighten his arms around her when he nearly felt weak from what he felt.

She looked so like a combination of their vessels, but underneath it he could see her soul and that… that was an astonishing thing, something indescribable.

He’d never seen such a thing and he had once stood at the edge of Creation and watched stars collide and galaxies die. But now? Nothing compared and likely never would to him again.

Nyx was her own creation.

“Hello,” he muttered and her cries stopped almost instantly at the sound of his voice. Her eyes, still half-closed, seemed to focus on him and Dean gave a surprised snort when she actually made a soft sound like a coo.

“Go figure.”

“Babies shouldn’t focus that much. She’s not even twenty minutes old,” Sam said and Castiel nodded. He gathered her closer and rocked her a little.

“I know.” Walking around them, he moved to sit on the rocking chair with her held high near his chest. She could barely squirm, but her tiny fingers clenched into fists from reflex.  He stared at her and tilted his head. “Hello, Nyx.”

Dean and Sam stood across from him and watched him talk to the baby.

“She’s quieted down.” Sam could barely hide his relief, the leftover headache from before having been flaring at each of her cries.

“Yep.”  Dean glanced at the open door, where he could see Meg resting. “How’s the demon?”

“Tired. Her body is healing,” Castiel tore his eyes away from Nyx to stare at Meg, running his gaze over her. “I can feel it.”

“You two and the feelings thing,” Dean said, shaking his head and crouching in front of the pair. Sam rubbed at his jaw and watched as Castiel laid the baby on his legs and ran his hand down her body. 

“She’s not missing parts, Cas,” he said, amused by how intently the angel was checking every finger and toe. As if he was looking for some flaw to be worried about.

“Even after all these centuries of watching you humans, I still find this fascinating. How all that planning, all that biology, comes down to a perfect union of soul and body. But I can see under it too, and I see what Meg and I have done together.” Castiel actually smiled and cupped her head, leaning down to brush his lips over her forehead. Taking in that odd scent of a newborn that seemed to drift from her tiny dusting of dark hair. He breathed out lightly and murmured again, “Hello, Nyx.”

Dean shook his head fondly.

The baby made a soft mewling sound and the angel let his power touch her, even as his smile widened and he stroked her gently. Her power was buried deeply, fogged by a baby’s natural mind. It was there, hidden and not as wild as before. But none of that mattered when he was face to face with her. He could feel her mind trying to work, her power struggling, and then those more instinctive traces of her trying to survive.

She was already hungry and still a little cold. Unconsciously he brought her even closer and tried to will her to warm up.

Sam took in a deep breath and looked out the window. Something caught his eye and he frowned, pulling back the curtain a bit. 

“Not to break the moment but anyone know what’s going on out there?” 

All three men stood and slowly made their way over, Castiel cradling Nyx close as she continued to make tiny noises, cuddling to him for warmth. Still damp from the rain, he ignored the chill and adjusted the coat around her as he looked outside. Strange to be holding a newborn baby and having to be still ready for a fight.

Naomi and the angels stood in a line, facing what demons were left.

"I don’t see Abaddon," Dean muttered as he scanned the few demons remaining. As one, they smoked out, their meatsuits dropping to the ground lifelessly. Leave it to Abaddon’s own soldiers to kill their hosts rather than let them live, he thought bitterly.

"She’s too strong for Naomi to kill easily." Castiel swallowed, seeing his sister and the others beginning to clean up the bodies and soot that littered the distant field. He looked back down at Nyx who was unhappily struggling to cry. Dean looked as well, attention drawn to the baby.

"Think they were fighting to get to her or to Meg?"

"Both. We were lucky." Castiel adjusted her in his arms but she still continued to make tiny cries. Not much, her voice was still struggling, but he could feel her confusion at this cold and dank world. At how she knew she wasn’t safe without her mother.

He hadn’t been prepared for how much his daughter might depend on Meg.

"You said it." 

Castiel looked at where Sam was sleepily leaning against the wall, then at Dean. He’d spoke aloud and he almost blushed. The hunter gave him an amused look that had him looking at Nyx instead in embarrassment.

“I should take her to Meg.”

"She probably wants food," Sam said and the angel blinked, hesitating. "We have done baby duty before, remember?

"Of course."

"You didn’t stock up on any, did you?"

“I found something called formula. It sounded disgusting.”

Dean smirked. “Give it a whirl. Because I don’t think option A is going to fly with Meg.” 

Castiel caught on quicker than either brother expected. “I will… after Meg’s seen her.” The angel’s eyes went back to the demon. “She’s dreaming.”

"Lucky demon, falling asleep right after."

Something uncomfortable crossed Castiel’s face. “I’m not so sure of that, Dean.”

~~~

Standing in the Lethe, submerged to her thighs in the water, Sheol tilted her head back and stared at the stormy sky. Each thunderous crash of the waves on the shore, each slow way it lapped against her, made her long for rest. Going into that world, inhabiting Meg’s body, had drained her more than she expected. Now that the child was born, she realized how closely connected to that world. How divided it was making her feel.

But as long as the demon was safe, as long as that connection stayed, then nothing could really die.

 _Damn you, Lucifer,_ she thought, _all you had to do was wait._

Instead, he’d driven the demon, driven the angel, to one another even more by trying to kill her repeatedly. It had simply made their strange bond deeper.

Now they all had to pay the price for that.

Sighing deeply, she dragged her toe through the sand beneath her feet and stared at the foam rising around her. The waves began to beat against the shore more angrily and behind her she could hear the restless shifts of souls re-awakening. A hunger gnawed at her insides and she closed her eyes a little as the water rose to her breasts and bathed her in warmth.

~~

Lying on her bed, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, Meg felt the shift through her entire body. As if in a dream, she felt the slow warmth crawling through her body one more time, seducing her into an odd dream-like state. What power she had crackled around her and held her still as she healed. 

What she saw wasn’t the skylight or the storm still passing overhead. Her vision was filled with the Lethe, with seeing the waters begin to churn and change once again.

~~

Naomi hissed in a deep breath, clutching her wounded side as she watched the remaining demons they had found near the edge of the field back off. The angels who had fought with her, fought on their faith alone, stuck close to her and she waved her hand for them to back away. Abaddon had slipped away early in the battle, her building army having been almost decimated by the unexpected arrival of the angels. Naomi herself wasn’t sure who had slowly pushed for her to defend Castiel’s unborn, what had been done to bring her here.

What did frighten her was what she had felt in the demon. What had been there, beyond that presence that temporarily consumed Meg, had been strangely familiar.

Something she’d not felt for thousands of years since the angels had taken care of a threat nearly equal to the demons.

“Would explain so much,” she muttered, pushing her straggly wet hair out of her face. Beside her, Inias straightened and palmed his blade as the last of the demons shot off through the sky in smoke trails to escape their deaths.

“Follow them,” Naomi snapped. “I want several of them brought back so we can interrogate them.”

Inias gave her a look. “It could be a trap.”

“It could be a trap not to. We need time and this Abaddon, if she was close to Lucifer, she might know what else he could have set in motion.” She waved her hand, all at once losing at that softer side to her and returning to her more calculating self. “Go.”

There was a crash of lightning as Inias and his section of the Garrison disappeared.

~~

_Crash._

_Meg’s eyes flickered under the force of the light shining on her face, as if someone was focussing a beam on her. It made it so hard to want to wake up. Everything ached and swelled inside of her, a slow drain of power that was making her feel weak._

_Weak. She’d not felt weak in so long. She hated that vulnerability._

_“That would be the nature of life,” a bitterly familiar voice said beside her. Reluctantly, Meg opened her eyes and sat up, digging her hands into the hot sand. Suddenly the warmth of the Lethe was too much, given to scalding her instead of comforting her. Beside her, Sheol sat staring out at the waters beyond and did not turn her head to look at Meg. She’d changed into a black dress with her red hair hanging limp over her shoulders and her skin was flushed feverishly._

_“Why am I here?”_

_“Don’t you want to be here?” Sheol countered and waved her hand, drawing Meg’s gaze out to the water. The skies had turned as dark as the water and the sudden chill in the breeze was frigid enough to make her wrap her arms around herself._

_“This is a dream.”_

_“Yes. You might see it that way.” Sheol shook her head. “All of this was done to save one life instead of bringing comfort to billions.”_

_The demon stared. The entity’s smirk was cool when she finally looked at Meg again._

_“Will it be worth it though? Your attempts to protect life simply created another way for it to be ended. This time without the bliss of Lethe.” Before the demon could sit back, Sheol’s face was so close she could see the bright pinpoints of light in her eyes. “This time, you all get nothing.”_

_Before Meg could think of a response, something warm brushed her hand. Something far warmer than the sand and water curled around her fingers and grasped tightly._

_“Meg.”_

~~

“Meg?” The raspy voice spoke so low that she nearly fell back asleep to ignore it but the grip on her hand tightened a little before letting go. “What are you dreaming about?”

Meg opened her eyes slowly to see Castiel sitting on the chair beside her bed. Her body didn’t ache as badly as before though there was an emptiness now that settled low in her womb. As if she was missing something. The rest of her still felt cool and oddly refreshed by the sleep she’d had.

She’d done something. Hadn’t she?

Her hand stole down to her stomach and felt nothing. As the sleepy fog in her eyes cleared, she was able to see the angel more clearly in the dim lamplight. 

“That was a dream?” she muttered but then spied the blanket in his arms. “No dream.”

“No. You’ve only been asleep for half an hour. Your body was healing,” he explained. “I would have let you sleep but I need you.”

“There’s a first for everything.” She turned a little on the bed and tried to brace herself. She groaned as the pain in her muscles slowly came back. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“Which, I agree, can be very unpleasant,” he agreed. The bundle he held shifted again. “Were you dreaming of Lethe?”

“Leave it alone, Cas. I just woke up.”

Grunting at the ache in her back, Meg sat up, legs still bent carefully under her. Castiel watched her move and nervously reached out to touch her with his free hand. His fingers brushed over her wrist and he frowned at how cold her skin was. 

"Are you still in pain?"

"Stupid question, feathers." She arched her back a bit and then, nervously, her eyes dragged towards the bundle he held. Castiel watched several emotions cross her face, as if she was deciding what to do, and then he looked down as well. Instead of fast asleep, Nyx’s scrunched up eyes were trying to open at the sound of her mother. He heard Meg swallow deeply, gaze on the baby, and he adjusted the newborn uneasily in his arms. Like Meg, he could feel what she wanted.

It was just a question if Meg was willing. The demon had felt strange since he’d come into the room. Even asleep he had felt like there was something a little wrong. There was something undecided and cagey about her. Like she had felt months ago just before they had seduced each other, just before she’d run.

She felt distant.

It was when Nyx’s crying started that he made up his mind.

"She wants you," he whispered and Meg’s eyes met his. He tried to read her and, not for the first time, she was impossible to understand in just a look. Nyx cried out again and Meg slid to the end of the bed, her knees just brushing his as she leaned forward. Her hand hesitantly went out, brushed the blanket and then she snatched it back. Almost as if she was burned.

“Meg. You don’t have to…”

The demon cleared her throat and then held her hand out again. “Give her over.”

Awkwardly, he passed her over, noticing the cool aloofness of her expression. That irrevocable fear came to mind. That now that Nyx was born, Meg would lose that piece of her that had cared. Even if it had been just a little piece.

But as he watched her balance the child with far more ease than he had, he felt less uncomfortable. The demon may pretend indifference but her meatsuit’s natural instinct was taking over, ignoring the darkness for what it had held for nine months. Meg’s slender fingers curled around the soft body and held her securely close, her eyes only on the baby. For a moment it was as if she’d even forgotten that he was staring at her. She tracked her other hand up her daughter’s small frame, from her toes to her head, and she curved her palm against her face.

"Hello, Nyx. Took you long enough." Nyx’s squinted eyes were trying to focus on Meg and the demon chewed on her lower lip as those eyes seemed to stare at her. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here,” she whispered and the baby made a sound, face pressed to her breast. “Guess you’re hungry.”

“Dean said to try to give her some formula. He thought you were…” He stopped himself and Meg’s eyes darted to his, a fierce look crossing her face that made him stutter a little. He decided to try again. “And I know that you….” 

Defiantly, Meg unbuttoned the shirt, shrugging it down with her shoulder and glaring at him the entire time. With surprising aim the baby latched on to her nipple when it was exposed close to her mouth. No hesitation like he’d heard of, no fear, and only Meg’s slight flinch made her look away from him. Nyx was hungry; almost immediately her eyes closed and she settled down contentedly. Meg looked uncomfortable but apparently Dean’s opinion of her had goaded her into doing what she wasn’t likely to have ever done before. 

Castiel watched Nyx, feeling her satisfaction at getting what she wanted. “I had thought…”

“I don’t think you realize how sore I am right now, Cas, and not ready for you to meta this to death. Body is still human though I’m not,” Meg muttered. “Better than hearing her crying all night, I guess.”

The fact that Nyx settled so comfortably against the demon was astonishing. Oddly mesmerized by the sight, Castiel had to drag his eyes away from the nursing baby to Meg’s face. Her expression hadn’t changed, stayed thoughtful as she watched Nyx, and he cleared his throat. 

"Thank you."

Her head jerked up. “For what?”

"This. For not…”

"This really wasn’t a planned gift, featherbrain," she interrupted. Her head bowed a little to watch Nyx nurse. "But she’s cute, I guess. For something that looks like we left her in the wash too long.”

She eyed the hungry way her daughter drank with a sardonic grin. “Though you have to wonder if demons-blood can change people, if this could affect her.”

“I think with what we are,” he waved his hand nervously at them, “and what she is, this situation might be different.”

“Let’s hope.” She winced uncomfortably. “Yeah, this is one to go in my book of ‘crap I never thought to do’.”

Castiel swallowed and leaned further forward, so his nose just brushed hers. Meg shuddered as his breath touched her mouth but he didn’t kiss her. His fingers reached up and cupped her cheeks, stroking her as Nyx continued to nurse her first meal. 

"Not fair to tease me when I just popped a kid out," she murmured huskily and Castiel’s eyes opened wide. He stared at her until her eyes opened and that wicked smile appeared on her lips. 

"I wasn’t trying to." His mouth lingered just out of reach.

"Why the attempts at being cute and cuddly then?" Still, she didn’t pull back, let his fingers continue to smooth over her skin. 

"Because I nearly lost you both." 

“Still pretty whole there, Castiel. Things could be worse.” 

He sat back, strangely annoyed by her flippancy, and ran his hand down her neck to Nyx’s head. The baby had stopped her noisy feeding and was starting to fall asleep in the moments he had been distracted touching Meg. Her tiny hand was clutched in reflex around a lock of Meg’s dark hair and he gently reached out to remove the tiny fist. Instead, it wrapped around his finger and he left it there, comforted by the strength in that hold.

“Think she wants you here?” She tilted her head and watched his face, the intent look in his eyes as he stared at the dozing baby.

“You can’t feel anything different in her, can you?” Meg asked finally when he took too long to answer.

“Nothing. You?”

“Blank slate. Like now that she’s out that there’s nothing to be worried about.” She watched Castiel’s expression flicker a little, as if he was indecisive. But her own arms tightened around the bundle in her arms.

Strange. She hadn’t expected to feel protective. 

The angel’s eyes finally left Nyx and he looked up Meg instead, watching as she fixed her shirt. “But she’s here.”

“Yeah.”

He stared at her face again and she stared back. For a moment he felt like she was about to say something. Then her head dropped and she closed her eyes, sitting back against the broken headboard. She seemed to relax a little and Castiel contented himself with watching them instead. Constantly his eyes would be drawn to the newborn but then he found himself trying to see if something had changed in Meg.

But her true face was the same as ever. What she was unchanged.

For some reason, that gave him a bit more peace than he thought it could. He sat in silence, watching her and Nyx rest for nearly two hours. Sometimes Nyx would wake up, stare at him when he leaned over to check on her or watch Meg’s face closely. Almost as if she was memorizing them. For some strange reason, he had no willingness to break the silence and let Meg rest quietly, sensing she didn’t want to talk either. He was content to listen to the rain outside and the Winchesters moving around the house.

It was Dean that broke Castiel’s concentration. Cradling a mug of instant coffee he’d found in the tiny kitchen, he came in without knocking and sat on the end of the bed. Startled, Meg opened her eyes and glared at him. He ran his eyes curiously over her and then the baby. 

“So. That was insane.”

“You said it.” She made a face. “Guess I’d better say thanks. You did okay after you finished passing out.”

Dean seemed nonplussed by her thanks. “Ah… don’t mention it. Really.” 

Meg looked at Castiel and he held out his hands, taking Nyx from her so that she could move. Gingerly, she pushed away from the bed and stood up, grabbing at the blanket. She swayed unsteadily on her feet and both Dean and Castiel watched her struggle.

“You just popped a kid out. Sit down,” Dean snapped when she tried to fight the weakness.

Before she could turn and snap at him, Castiel reached out and tugged her back down. Still tucked up and sound asleep, Nyx made a sound and he shushed her as well. Watching them, Dean sighed and leaned back a bit, sipping the coffee.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked, one eye on Meg warily as if he expected her to jump up and run out of the room. But she shifted uncomfortably with one hand on her stomach before she settled down.

“Sam’s getting weaker again, I can tell. And we can’t stay here.” Dean cleared his throat and took another long drink. “I know you said this place is hard for a demon or angel to get into, but all they need to do is set something on fire or get humans in here. Which the demons will do.”

“I know.” Castiel glanced at Meg. “Can you travel?”

“Pregnant, not fragile.” She shook her head. “Right. Not pregnant either.”

“All we need is some time. Load up on hexbags and cover our tracks. If we can make it to the bunker, the only ones who know about it are the angels. They didn’t seem too hard to attack us this time,” Dean reasoned. Meg’s eyes darted to Castiel and he sighed. He looked down at Nyx and then up at Meg.

“I think we’ll be vulnerable, on the move like this.” He ran his eyes over the demon thoughtfully. “And you’re not recovered.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped.  

“Sure you are. But we’ll be travelling with a newborn kid, not even a day old. I can book it as fast as I can, if Cas can’t zap you there,” Dean said bluntly.

“If I ‘zap’ them anywhere, there’s a possibility that the angels will find us. And the demons there as well. At least with the Impala you can get some cover if you have to. Provided the angels don’t get their hands on it,” Castiel explained.

“What’s the worst they can do? Try to drive the hunk of junk?” Meg asked, aware of Dean’s sulky look but Castiel shook his head. He’d taken to holding Nyx remarkably well but the baby, clearly about to wake up again, made a sound that had him handing her back over to Meg. The demon stared at her with wide eyes and Dean smirked at the expression, though Meg caught the look. Nyx settled back down, resting tight and close to her demonic mother, and continued to wave her tiny hands a bit.

“This looks nice and domestic,” Sam commented dryly as he came into the bedroom, his hair still wet from his shower. Meg glared at him as well and he ignored her to sit beside Castiel. “What’s up?”

“Discussing moving out with Deano here,” she muttered and Sam blinked.

“Can you be moved at all? I mean. That wasn’t even a few hours ago. And she’s so… little.” He calculated in his head. “She’s a month early, Dean. I thought preemie’s were vulnerable.” Castiel gave him a fierce look and Sam rolled his eyes. “Human babies. She seems pretty healthy. Just a little small.”

“I think Nyx and Meg may be the least of our worries right now,” Castiel muttered but Sam’s words had snared a little bit of protectiveness in him. Reaching out, he ran his hand over the soft little body, checking for any weakness again. His fingers slipped over Meg’s and he glanced up to see her giving him a curious look.

  “We should get out of here. The angels are moving around and I’m not crazy about staying where demons can find us.” Dean finished his drink and looked up at Sam. “They’re still out there?”

“A few of them. They left me alone when I went to grab things from the car though. But it makes me nervous.”

Dean looked at Castiel. “What do you think?”

“I can’t fly them anywhere. The angels will tell.”

“So we gun it. Get back to the bunker and go on lock down,” Sam said. 

“It’s not just Nyx. It’s you we have to keep safe,” Dean snapped. “You can’t tell me the demons won’t be out there, waiting to pounce as well.”

“The angels won’t let us just leave.” Meg sat up a bit and handed Nyx over to Castiel again. He gave her a startled look as she wrapped the bed sheet around her lower body and limped over to the tiny trunk she had stored there. Meg figured that while the idea of pants right now was uncomfortable, it was better than going bare ass in front of everyone.  When she turned back, holding a bundle of fresh clothes, all three men were staring at her. 

“What? You think the angels will just let you all leave with her. With me? We are abominations to them still.”

Castiel bristled a little. “They protected us. They followed God’s orders.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to trust them. Track records aren’t good for angels doing 180s in opinions about us demons.”

His blue eyes narrowed at her a little but she ignored it, sitting on the bed and squirming into her loosest pair of pants. Almost shyly, she glanced over her shoulder at him, at Nyx, and she sighed.

“We’re trying to protect her, right?”

He relented a little, more because Nyx seemed to wake up at his agitation. She made a strange sound, causing Castiel to give her a bewildered look, and Dean sighed. 

“Give her.”

As Meg struggled to get moving, her soreness and slow healing making it difficult, she half-listened to Dean’s patient instructions to Castiel about how to burp and feed her. It was something normally she’d make fun of them both for. So much for big tough guys, she thought wryly. When Sam caught her eye, she wisely kept silent and staggered to the bathroom.

She made sure to lock the door behind her before she grabbed the sink in her hands and dry-heaved weakly over the sink. It took minutes before she could get over the urge to throw up and after she looked up at the mirror. One look at her haggard face and sweat knotted hair, the ripple of her true face flaring as her exhaustion let it free, made her growl. With a sense of self punishment, she ran the tiny shower to ice cold and stepped in.

It was a long time before she finally dragged herself out of the shower on still shaky legs, clean of blood and whatever fluid she’d had staining her legs. Even though the air was cold, she didn’t bother to wrap herself up. Instead, she stared at her face and tried to look for something more changed. But there was nothing. _Same old demon,_ she thought, _but tired._

There was a flutter and Castiel stood behind her in the mirror’s reflection. Meg held his gaze for a moment and then sighed, looking down. Anything was easier than that patiently worried look.

“Just tired, Castiel. And more than a little confused by everything. I nearly died and then went right into what had to be the most painful thing since Alastair broke my ribcage open, for Hell’s sake, and now instead of getting a longer time to breathe, we’re on the run again. So it’s not easy to have much faith that this will go well.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her shiver and reach for the last of the damp towels. His eyes ran over her as if checking for injury, likely seeing the change that had been done to her body and what was already being repaired. She could hear him sigh and thought she felt his hand trace her shoulder but when she looked up he hadn’t moved. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded, retreating back to her coarseness to try to get a response. He still didn’t answer, just stared, and out of irritation once she was dressed she went for the door.

He was there before she was and she found her back to it, the knob pressing hard into the small of her back. Castiel’s eyes went over her once more and when she went to grab the doorknob, he bent his head and kissed her hard. It was so sudden that she forgot to even kiss him back. Just stared dumbly up at him when he broke away. He backed away, leaving her mouth swollen and half-open in surprise, and gently moved her to one side to open the door. He went ahead of her, muttering instructions to Dean and Sam and then stopping to run his hand over Nyx’s head where she lay in her tiny crib.

Meg shook her head as he disappeared.

“What was that for, Clarence?” she muttered, thrown off by his kiss and his touch.

~~

“I don’t see what the problem is, Anya,” Chuck said as he sat on his front porch, staring up at the tall dusky-skinned woman who was staring down at him. For the past few hours, they’d been going over his manuscript again together and now he could tell she thought there was something wrong.

“I thought you were ending this series, Mr. Carver. But you’re leaving a lot of questions,” she said, slapping the papers down on the table. “Your readers will be upset enough with how this story turned around in the first place.”

“You don’t like the thought of an open ending?”

“I’ve seen it done before, in thousands of books, in thousands of ways. It isn’t that I don’t like it, I just have a hard time believing you will let it rest like that.” 

“Never said I was. You’re my little guardian agent though, I’ll take it under consideration.” He leaned back and picked up his cup of coffee. “What does my reader think? He usually has a criticism.”

“Marv?” Anya snorted. “You know him. He loves all your stories. Reads them voraciously.” Her eyes darted over him. “He has started to say he is interested in meeting the Winchesters. He is very interested in Castiel as well.”

“Good. You two can keep splitting duties. You edit and he can keep doing… whatever it is he does. I just don’t think letting him meet Castiel is a good idea.” Chuck sat forward and signed the contract, hearing her irritated sigh. “Is there something else?”

Her strange green eyes flickered, going nearly white before settling back to a more natural colour. “Something is different about you. You seem… more reserved than before. The last time I was here to pick up Swan Song, you had the liquor and coffee all ready. But now you almost look sad.”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. His thoughts drifted back to Sheol, to the clearing, and to the general feeling he had had from the past day. Everything had come to pass and none of it settled well with him. It had been too easy… and unsatisfying.

“I’ll make sure I take these to the publishing house.” Chuck’s eyes lingered on the pages and she saw him hesitate. “Unless?”

Damn, he thought, I am going to regret this.

“Leave the ending with me. I have a feeling it will need to be redone again.”  He caught her irritated look. “I’ll email you the new copy. Just stall the publisher.”

She shook her head and gathered up her briefcase and the pages. Not even bothering to say goodbye, she headed down the patio steps and Chuck watched her leave. Feeling strangely empty, as he had for the past hours. He’d used to look forward to her visits. She was dependable.

But since returning from his meeting with Sheol, he had deleted all the fan-mail he’d received, tossed out the signing sheets and the gifts from other writers. Photos, old books, artwork, anything to remind him of his own writing and what it had developed. He had set old manuscripts on fire and burned much of his junkier writing in a strange furious fit.

His study was empty of anything but his laptop and desk; even the shelves were bare. Without the clutter taking up all the space, he could barely recognize his own house anymore. It didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it had only helped him realize how much his writing had become a place for him to hide in.

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation,” he whispered and thought of the beaches in the Lethe.

~~~

When Castiel walked out into the yard, the sun-warm light of dawn was just starting to creep over the hillside, causing highlights in his dark hair and giving him a glow. None of the angels waiting for him even noticed. At their head stood Naomi, no longer looking bedraggled and soaked. Now she looked how she had in her Heavenly office; cold, efficient. The perfect angel.

Castiel realized what Meg had meant by it taking a long time for angels to turn around in their beliefs.

“Thank you. For your help,” he began and she eyed him.

“We do as our Father dictated. It is not done out of any sort of friendship, Castiel,” she warned and he sighed, not catching the slight softening in her gaze. But her orders, to maintain control, were so deeply ingrained in her that she couldn’t risk any sign of weakness.

“All the same. Thank you.”

She nodded, a slight incline and smile, and then walked around him, gazing up at the dark house.

“She’s born then?” Naomi asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “We all heard the cries.” Castiel nodded. “Then we don’t have much time. She needs to be brought to our side, Castiel. Taken to a safe place for the angels to teach her.”

Alarm made him spin around and quickly block her way to the house. “She’s not even a day old! She…”

“You and I both know that even children can be dangerous. We can all feel what she is capable of. The angels can guard her and keep her safer than anyone else. You know that. That is what we do. Protect.”

Castiel backed off a step. “She is safe with Meg.”

“With a demon.” Naomi shook her head and stepped around him. “Castiel, why this obsession with her? Is it because of what you created together? The demon cannot be changed. In the end, there is only her cause, remember?”

“Meg is a better choice than the angels,” he insisted. “And I can protect her.”

“Forever, Castiel?” his sister asked lowly and he straightened up a little.

“If I have to.”

Before she could answer, the purring sound of the Impala being started made all the angels turn. Naomi stared at Castiel, then at the car. She saw Sam Winchester and the demon getting in before anyone could think to move, and her mouth pulled into a scowl.

“You’re letting them go?”

“Yes.” He held his hands out the side. “Please.”

But the angels were already blocking the car at the impatient wave of her hand. “We have a right…”

“Yeah that’s what we thought you’d say.” Dean’s voice was a sudden and loud intrusion as he stepped out of the car and leaned over the hood to stare at her. “So we’re just gonna make you let us go.”

Before she could move, he slammed his hand down onto the roof of the car, where he’d painted a quick sigil with his blood. The loud rush of power snared the angels who had been closing in on the Impala. Light flashed and snapped out, catching all of the angels in its flare. Castiel submitted to its pull and closed his eyes, not caring as he was thrown to the other side of the world.

Nyx’s howling screams had Meg and Sam both staring at the newborn on her lap in bewilderment. The sound echoed in the Impala. Satisfied with what he’d done, Dean slid back into the car and turned around, rubbing at his ears dramatically.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” he demanded over the cries. Meg tried shushing her, ineffectively as the tiny face scrunched up. Even when she passed her over to Sam, then Dean, trying to make them do it, nothing worked. The bag Sam had packed had nothing she could use, except a stuffed animal or two but those weren’t likely to work on a newborn.

“I don’t think she liked Cas getting blasted out of here like that,” Sam muttered as he tried to calm her down. Shaking his head, Dean carefully drove off.

“Maybe soft rock and the car will do it. Used to work on you as I remember it.”

But as they drove down the long strip to the highway, nothing seemed to work to get her to keep quiet. She continued to fuss unhappily in Sam’s arms, until Meg finally took her back. With nothing else she could do, she held her and tried to ignore it. When the brothers simply tried to tune the crying out by carrying on their own conversation, the demon resorted to discreetly nursing the infant. She didn’t like the maternalness of the act but had no other choice, and it occupied Nyx so her cries were more muffled.

It was strange, no one knew why, but she finally stopped crying when they were on the highway. The mixture of classic rock and the Impala’s low purring engine seemed to put her to sleep. Uncomfortably, Meg settled against her seat and closed her eyes to try to pass the time with rest. 

Dean’s low growl into his cell phone at Kevin made her wake up a while later. Nyx  was still tightly held and Meg’s neck ached from the cramped position she had wedged herself into. She gave the sleeping infant a quick look before closing her eyes again.

“No, I don’t…” Dean looked over at Sam. “He said the angels have them stuck in a diner at the other side of town. Lebanon’s not that big but he seems to think they don’t want to let them go.”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Sam muttered. He looked over his shoulder at Meg but she kept her eyes shut.

“Look, see if you can get out then and we’ll try to think of something. I dunno how. Seduce them,” Dean said sarcastically and then stared at his phone. “He hung up on me.”

“We’re gonna have to pull over sooner or later.” Sam jerked his head to where Meg was pretending to be asleep. “We’re have to find a place to stock up. Kid’s going to have to get changed in a few hours and so will you if you down any more coffee.”

“Cute.” Dean sighed. “Nearest motel?”

Sam dug into the glove compartment and pulled out a road map they had marked up. “50 clicks out. Be worth it. We can maybe get Cas back here when he really regroups.”

Meg finally sat up, setting Nyx down on the makeshift soft seat they’d made out of blankets. Neither of them flinched when she hung over the seats between them and looked at the map. “Look at the positives.”

“I’m in a car with a demon I should hate, the demon’s baby, a few hours ago you were in labour and we were having a mini-battle with angels and demons. There’s positives?” Dean demanded. 

“You’re not dead yet,” she offered and he turned his head to glare at her.

“Shut up, Meg.”

~~~ 

Kevin set his phone down and breathed deeply. “Okay,” he muttered, coaching himself. “You can do this. How hard can it be? You’ve watched the Great Escape. You’ve beaten Crowley, gotten away from Sam and Dean before.”

His mother, sitting at a plastic table, eyed him in a disgruntled way. The angels hadn’t been prepared for how belligerent she could be, and she’d spent the better part of the hour arguing with them all. Then they resorted to just ignoring her and Linda ignored them. She had her hands tightly folded over the table surface. 

“Well?” she demanded in a low voice. The angels were pacing around the restaurant, looking up at the sky through the window.

“Dean said we should find a way to escape. They’re still on the highway and too far out and Cas isn’t around.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing but I thought I heard…” he winced. “A baby.”

“Oh, you have to be kidding.” Linda sighed. “Well, that simplifies things a lot. We need to get out of here and get back to the bunker.”

“How?” He looked around. “I mean if I had an angel sword, sure. But these guys were told to keep us here. We’re kinda screwed since angels don’t sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and looked down at her flat hands meaningfully. When he looked, Kevin blinked, surprised at the blood dripping from between her fingers. 

“Excuse me?” he called out. The angels all turned toward him. “My mom’s hurt.”

“How would she do that?” one asked suspiciously as he looked at her. 

“Sharp edges and I’m one clumsy human,” she said airily. “Stupid humans, huh?”

The three angels all rolled their eyes in agreement, one reaching out for her. “This won’t hurt,” he said kindly, clearly wanting and she smiled back as she put her hand under the table.

“Sure it won’t.”

Before he could touch her, she slapped her palm down on the underside of the table. The flash of light was brilliant and familiar and Kevin stared stupidly around the diner as it emptied of all angels. They left only burnt out light bulbs and some shattered glass behind.

Linda was already headed for the door by the time he recovered his wits. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

“Please. Like having to hang around demons and angels doesn’t teach me something. Again.” She held up her sliced hand. “What have I always told you?”

“Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut?” he offered.

“Well, that too.” She shoved him out the door. “Never doubt your mother.”

“Never do,” he agreed as he fished out his phone to call for a cab again before she decided on hitchhiking next.

~~

With the motel room warded and salt poured everywhere there was an entrance, nothing was getting in or out. Meg watched the Winchesters from the doorway to the tiny kitchenette, noticing how Dean and Sam both were allowing their other sides to come out. Vulnerable sides, sure, but she figured they’d already seen hers.

The cause of that side in her hadn’t shown up yet though she knew Dean had prayed to him earlier. It made every minute that crawled by almost unbearable as the first fourteen hours since Nyx’s birth passed.

Dean muttered as he changed Nyx for the demon, who’d pulled the ‘too tired’ card on him and he’d gone along with it. It seemed to give him something to do besides worry over Sam, while the younger Winchester was going through research on Cambions. Whether it would tell him anything or not, Meg wasn’t sure.

All she knew was that she didn’t feel as changed as she’d worried about.

“Angels,” she muttered. “You’d think he’d put me in a rehab for demons just by staying close.”

When Nyx fell asleep, which she seemed to do with thankful regularity, Dean carried her back towards Meg. Fresh and new, she was bundled up in clean blankets and warm. Happy, by what Meg could feel from her. 

“Surprised Cas didn’t spring you with all the amenities. You know, car seat, cribs, yadayada,” he explained as he handed her over. 

“He did but someone was in a rush to get out. Guess we have to make do.” She gingerly adjusted the infant in her arms. “Definitely not used to this.”

“Eh, it gets easier,” he offered and Meg eyed him.

“We’re not going to have a moment, are we?” she demanded and he quickly backed off.

“No. Just saying.” He rolled his eyes. “Not likely, right? Us having any sort of moment.”

“Right.”

Dean glanced down at Nyx and unsteadily turned away from her, making Meg wonder about him. Without just Sam to worry him, his attention was split. Which might be in her benefit if she didn’t have to keep changing the baby and she liked that idea. The Winchesters might be useful still.

Meg watched Dean go to the table near the window and then turned back to the baby in her arms as she sat on the bed and propped her up on her knees. One hand instinctively cupped her head as she let her slide down a bit. Nyx’s tiny eyes were struggling to open again and Meg felt that startling blue gaze. Those eyes that were likely not to change. The ache in her body had at least gone enough that she no longer felt ready to drop and could actually really look back at her daughter.

When Nyx finally seemed to focus a little on her, she smirked. 

“Not still hungry, are you? Cause this leech impression isn’t gonna fly, kid,” she muttered to her daughter. “Day 1 and you’re already a lot of trouble, aren’t you?”

Still, at least she wasn’t crying as much right now. Though it looked like it was just the lull before the storm now. What little she knew of babies, Meg knew they cried. A lot.

With any luck, she could keep passing those moments off to the others.

Though, oddly, she wasn’t minding them so much. It was just so strange to see any child comfortable around her.

Maybe nearly nine months of the kid sitting in her womb helped. 

As Meg adjusted her on her raised legs, Nyx settled happily into the makeshift cradle and her tiny features relaxed as she fell asleep again. That restful feeling she seemed to calm down Meg’s own agitation and she let her eyes close a little. Her arms  kept the baby safe and secure on her lap and she let her chin drop to her chest.

_Lethe’s shores were cold now, the water like ice, and there was no warm breeze left.  She shivered as she tried to walk away from the waves that crashed to the shore furiously. But each step dragged in the sand and it seemed like the faster she tried to run away, the more it dragged her back._

_Meg._

She was vaguely aware of a hand going through her hair and when she opened her eyes she saw Castiel crouching beside her. Damp with rain, smelling of angel and something like smoke, he was dressed in his coat and suit again. Nyx was still sleeping on her legs and Meg shifted a little, opening her mouth. The angel put a finger over his lips and the hand in her hair moved, running over the curve of her leg to brush Nyx’s stomach. The baby slept on and Meg watched hazily as he made his way over to the Winchesters.

For some reason, his touch put her back to a doze as well. 

“She’s still healing,” Castiel told the hunters as he sat on the second bed across from them.

“Figured. Been a crazy few hours.” Sam yawned and nudged him over, lying flat on his stomach on the bed. Dean gave his brother an amused look and watched Castiel sigh, shifting just enough that Sam’s much taller body could have the bed.

When he was snoring softly, Castiel looked back at Dean to see his face was drawn and tired.

“You should be resting as well.”

“I will.” Dean shifted a little forward and rubbed at his eyes. “Just trying to absorb everything.”

Castiel fixed his coat around his legs and leaned forward as well. “I never thanked you. For helping Meg. I know that…”

“I didn’t do it for Meg. I did it for the kid. Because despite what I thought earlier, she seems innocent of all of this.” Dean’s eyes went to where the baby was sound asleep with Meg. “Hopefully she’s always as quiet as she is now.”

Castiel looked as well, his eyes holding on the sight of the demon and the infant. “I hope. For her first few hours of life it… it hasn’t been ideal.”

“There’s been worse.” The Winchester leaned back and sighed. “I need to focus on Sam now. You said there’s a cure for him?”

“Not quite a cure, we still have to find a final solution. It is a way of alleviating his symptoms, though it will take some magic, if you’re not averse to that.” Blue eyes snared green. “But it will help him.”

“At this point, with everything that’s happened, I just want him better. I can’t watch him die, Cas. Not again.” His legs crossed and he rubbed at his eyes again. “If I’d known, for a second, that the trials would do this to him I would have just stopped at the beginning. Or made it start over so I could do it instead.”

Castiel’s eyes closed a little. “You can’t take all his troubles, Dean, because if the trials did this to him, it would do the same to you. And he would be in your place now, trying just as hard to save you.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t let him,” Dean muttered and Castiel gave him a look.

“All this time and you still take the world on your shoulders, Dean, as some sort of penance.” He shook his head and looked at the dingy carpet at his feet. “I won’t let Sam die either. But you are not to bury yourself under guilt for this.”

Dean eyed him. “Are you ordering me, Cas?”

“I am.”

Their gazes locked and held before Dean looked away first.

“How’re you thinking of playing Daddy Cas then?” he asked. “Strict parent or the sucker for a pair of big blue eyes?”

Castiel followed his line of thinking and looked over at where Meg and Nyx still slept. “I have no idea. I wasn’t quite prepared for it in the first place.” His palms flattened together as if in prayer. “And Meg is… Meg. I don’t know what to think. I just know I need to protect them both.”

“From what?” Dean asked curiously and the angel looked back at him.

“I’m not sure.”

“There is a lot of ‘not sure’s about this, Cas.” Standing up, he stretched and looked at both Sam and Meg. “But we have to do what we have to do.”

~~`

The half-open door to the bunker made every hair on the back of Kevin’s neck stand up on end when they came down the hidden path. He was sure that he had left it good and secure before the angels had caught them but it was possible that the alarm had been tripped off. It should have. With no one around to stop it or investigate, the bunker would go on lock down.

He thought.

The emergency lights flashed red repeatedly as he came in and he reached into his side bag for the bottle of holy water he always kept stashed close by. Behind him, his mother crept up and checked the electrical panels. Sam’s security system was a bit crude but it was able to give enough warning that someone had been in. Judging by the time triggers, they had left some time ago.

“The angels wouldn’t come in here, would they?” she asked him and he shook his head.

“I don’t know. They moved us so fast though…”

When they made it to the library, she did a quick stock of their supplies they’d left. Nothing was missing. The books were untouched, all the artefacts were still in their casings. Nothing looked to be out of order at all. Kevin stared around the library, confused.

“I mean, what if they left a… a bomb or something,” Linda muttered.

“Come on, Mom. These are demons and angels. Bombs are beneath them I bet,” he said glibly and she gave him a look. “Well, I hope.”

“Why else would they come here?” she asked and he froze when he caught a faint undercurrent of sulphur. No demon but two would know about this place.

“Oh… Oh no!” he shouted, sprinting for his bedroom. With Linda standing in the doorway, he tore apart his entire room, flipping his mattress over and scrounging under the bed. “No!”

“Kevin, you’re worrying me.”

“It’s gone! The-the tablet!”

“I thought you said it was safe.”

“The bunker is one of the safest places!” He grabbed at his dark hair and pulled. “Who would even know where my room could be?”

Their eyes locked. “Only Meg or…”

“Crowley.”

~~~

Close to the coastline, far from Midwest where the demons could regroup without the angels finding them, Abaddon assessed what remained of her force. Burnt wretches, struggling to heal their meatsuits, faced her with their heads down in their disgrace. Still healing a vicious set of cuts from angel swords on her own face, she glared at them all.

“The price I pay for using such young demons for war,” she said loudly and watched most of them flinch. Her eyes black just from sheer fury, she turned around and looked at the older of the demons who should have served as better generals. “So.”

His eyes went black as well but this time out of fear. 

“Tell me where you think we went wrong?” she asked in too calm a voice, saccharine tones oozing from her. “Because by my count, we watched our Father fall because of some bitch, we did not get to kill a Winchester or an angel, that traitor Meg is still not in our grasp, and Sam who should have been our Father’s holy vessel is still free.”

He nervously looked at the others. “We couldn’t guess that the angels would help Castiel. He’s been considered a rebel for years now.”

“Mm, but I suppose we forgot how families can be.” She tapped a broken red nail against her cheek. “How loyal.”

Without warning, she grabbed him by his throat and held him still. “And how unforgiving for failure.”

Before he could squirm free, the sword she’d managed to filch off a dead angel slammed into his stomach. He gasped and twitched, falling dead before she could get the slightest satisfaction from his death. Disgusted, she dropped the meatsuit and turned to face the demons.

“S-seems that y-you have a p-problem with winning a b-battle.”

The stuttering voice was low and oily, like a salesman about to make an offer, and slowly she turned to face its owner. Crowley, coated in road dust and smelling of bad blood, stood just behind her. His beard was overgrown, his eyes bloodshot red, but the grin reminded her of earlier times. With a slow limp, he came within her reach and Abaddon watched him warily. Just like the demon, she thought, to show up when she was fresh from failure.

The Crossroads demon had always reminded her of a true snake. Ready to strike when he thought others were weak.

“How’s life in crazy town, precious?” she asked.

“F-funniest thing.” He cleared his voice and shook his head abruptly, losing the stutter immediately. “For some reason, in the past ten hours my mind has cleared right up. Strange. Almost back to normal I’d say.”

“Glad to hear it,” Abaddon said sarcastically. “If we’re done.”

She lifted the bloody blade and infuriatingly he lifted a hand and wagged his finger at her. “Ah ah ah.”

At her look, he held up a piece of etched square rock. Her eyes widened at the sight and he smirked.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt the merchandise, would you?” he asked in a condescending tone.

The implications what the demon tablet meant ran through her head and she lowered the blade a bit.

Crowley smirked. “I thought you might want to cut a little deal.”

~~~

It took another two days before they were even ready to move again. Once Dean had his head down on a pillow, he slipped into a dead sleep and Sam was the same, getting up only to douse his hot face with icy water or find food for Dean. With the room warded and Castiel carefully on guard, there was time for them to sleep off the long hours they’d spent driving and fighting. 

It left him perhaps far too much time to spend alone with Meg and Nyx in the room she’d insisted on getting away from the Winchesters. He had tried to argue but it had been no good in the face of her demands. When it turned out that Nyx liked to be up late into the night, it quickly became a blessing. He had not liked having to apologize to her over their argument but he’d done so anyway, aware of the satisfaction it gave her.

He could feel Meg’s apprehension about it all and knew he himself was still incredibly nervous around the baby. She was tiny enough that it seemed like it would take mere pressure and she’d break. Still, he took the majority of time to watch over her. Letting Meg rest and adjust.

They couldn’t move far yet and he didn’t want to leave Dean or Sam alone. He couldn’t split himself in two to watch over them all but in the next room he could hear Dean snoring away. No one had bothered them yet and he had left for only a short amount of time to get food and supplies for them all.

Turning on the television to the news channel, Castiel sighed and settled down on the uncomfortable couch. He could hear Meg moving around, a strange parody of domestication as she broke tags off the clothing he knew she’d stolen from the nearby shop, and he gave her naked back an amused look. It was hard not to stare when he saw the long strip of her pale skin, where the scars still decorated her meatsuit, and he ran his eyes over the sight. 

“Staring again, Clarence,” she said as she tossed her old shirt into the garbage, He looked away to the news and then down at the baby secure in the crook of his arm. 

“I know.”

He could hear her still moving around but he checked Nyx for the hundredth time in the hour, testing lightly to see if her power was still reactive. But she only made small sounds, projected a bit of hunger now and then, or when she needed to be changed. Simple needs really. He had thought, for some reason, that being that she was such a new life, that she’d be something complex.

But her world seemed to revolve mostly around her hunger and warmth. What little he could feel from her mind was that she thought his voice was comforting and Meg’s body was just right to sleep against. He spoke to her often after figuring that out, not caring that she didn’t understand him really, and he made sure that Meg held her though sometimes the demon was bewildered by it. Nyx’s needs never really changed; so long as she was warm and fed, she was happy. Her lack of complications had thrown him off so much that he had come to just react to her needs instead of fretting over it.

Meg seemed to just be taking it as slowly as he was.

Nyx made a sound and he turned on the couch, bracing his arm on the worn arm. “Not still hungry are you?” he asked and patted her. “No need for changing.”

“Good because that is your job, just fyi.” Meg pulled her hair through her collar and gave him a look from the bed. “If you are halfway across the world and I call to say you’re changing her, then guess what? You’re changing her.”

The angel rolled his eyes and shifted his arm under Nyx’s head to lift her a little more. She made a faint sound and he grinned, watching her eyes open and focus on him, so he waved his hand and dimmed the light. He watched her, taking in the curious way she seemed to watch him in return. When he ran his fingers over her palm her fingers opened and closed, and she made a delighted sound, her other tiny hand doing it when he repeated the motion.

Castiel watched the movement and realized she was impressed that he was able to make her open her hands. Then her hands went tight into fists again and he let her hold his finger with incredible strength. He tugged a little but there was no getting free. Instead, he leaned back and nestled her down against him. 

“Seems happy with herself,” Meg said as she took a seat on the coffee table across from him. 

“She does but she always does seem happy. Though that might be because she is so new,” he agreed and he looked over at her. “She’s very strong for being a month early.”

“Mm.” The demon reached out and then dropped her hand. Castiel watched her face before he reached over and took her hand, putting it on Nyx’s body.

“She loves you.”

The words hung in the air in a tense way. He’d not said a word about what Nyx seemed to feel, knowing Meg could feel it as well, but it had felt necessary now. He needed to voice it.

After watching her ‘die’, the need to find the words to suit what he felt was strong.

She flinched a little and he sighed, getting up and setting the infant down in the small temporary crib that he’d found for her. It was close to the carrier they’d gotten as well. He’d taken the time, much to Meg’s amusement, to ward even the crib. Carefully adjusting her so she was safe, he sat back on the couch and stared intently at Meg.

“There’s no shame in it,” he said softly and she rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. “You loved Azazel, Lucifer, and others as your family.”

“Difference was they were all part of my cause. I had to love them. It was a soldier thing.”

“So it is different with Nyx?” He ran his eyes over her face. “With me?”

The demon went to stand and he lifted his hand to stop her. “It’s not different, Clarence. It just is what it is.”

“That’s not an answer.” He slowly pulled her close and ran his mouth up her neck to her hair when she bumped into him. She twitched a little, clearly wanting to move into the touch and fighting it.

“You love me,” he muttered against her ear and he felt her stiffen. “There’s no shame in that.”

“There is for my kind. It’s weakness.”

"You can say it, Meg.”

"Stop that." She shoved at the side of his face and tried to lean away. “Why does it even matter to you?”

“Because I’d like for you not to be afraid of it.”  He tilted his head on the side. “Maybe if I repeat what I feel enough, what I’ve told you before, you’ll believe it.”

“Ok, let’s say… why now, Cas? Why does it matter now? Because of Nyx?” she demanded and he shook his head.

“Its always mattered and it never has to be said.” He leaned and tried to force her to look at him. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t need to know.”

“She’s only a few days old, Castiel. Stuff like that…”

“I think she’s more aware than we realize.” He tipped his head on the side. “You can feel that.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Demon angel hybrid and all abomination. Yeah, I bet she’s a lot different.”

Castiel watched the indecision on her face. “Meg.” Those dark eyes snapped to his face. “I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

She stared back at him and he saw her eyes flick to the side. He waited, almost breathlessly, for a moment before sighing and turning away. The hand suddenly grasping his yanked him back around and he found himself staring into furious dark eyes.

"Why do you always have to push?" she muttered. "When it is pretty obvious that you know that I…”

The loud knock at the door made her curse and turn away. The sound woke Nyx and Castiel took in a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It had him cursing bad timing and confusing emotions.

"Look outside!" Dean shouted through the connecting door and Castiel turned from the demon to go to the window. Being at ground level gave him just enough of a view and he squinted through the glass.

Beside him, Meg stepped close and tilted her head up to look at the sky. He glanced over at her, taking in the way the neon lights outside made her pale skin glow, before he looked at Nyx. She was still in her makeshift crib and she wasn’t making a sound. The baby’s fussing had stopped for now.

“What’s up with that, Clarence?” Meg murmured and he followed her gaze. Lights were flying through the sky, trailed by smokey trails, but the sight was entrancing. Comets, any human would think, but angel and demon knew that something else was happening. 

He heard Meg’s low curse, saw the way her lit eyes seemed to follow the lines in the sky.

Without pausing to think, he wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed.

~~

The first angel from the Lethe to return to Heaven’s gates was a seraph. Nothing more than cosmic intent, it drifted around and settled unhappily in a tiny, peaceful corner.  The Heaven it had landed in was that of an old loyal Jewish man, who loved the markets so much that he had made them his heaven. With a twist of unused Grace, the seraph sent the Heaven spinning on its axis before it folded its wings and settled down.

The seraph had not been this… this powerless before.

"Hello, Michael."

What had once been the Archangel turned slowly. Without his previous Grace, Sheol’s healing had returned him to the state of a seraph. Her affection for him had protected him. Just enough to bring his essence to a more reduced state but still he was tired. So tired. His Father’s call had drawn him back to Heaven. 

Standing in the shade of a heavy tree, a small man slowly walked out and held out his hands to show he was no threat

"You’re looking well, big brother."

The light bobbed, meaning the seraph nodded, but there was no voice. The man rolled his eyes around as if he understood.

"Yes, I see what you mean. But you wanted help and she gave it to you. Now you’re one of us. I can help you if you help me.”

The light shifted around the man and he smiled.

"Because I’m sure Father would like to see your revenge on the angel Castiel."

The peace that had once flooded the Seraph was gone, in the face of no more warmth from Lethe, no more light. Nothing to stem the desire to force the rebel angel to kneel to Heaven’s will once again. The man grinned, his almost passive demeanour lost as sheer cunning showed in that quirk to his lips.

~~

The bunker was quiet, still, when they finally pulled into the space outside the main door a day later. Feeling cramped and sore, Sam rolled his neck a little and opened the door for Meg and Cas to slip out behind him while Dean checked his keys. Grabbing the bag, Meg let Castiel take Nyx as the Winchesters headed inside ahead of them. He checked back at her and then followed Sam and Dean through the door.

Some instinct warned him in time for him to step back just as a pail of water was thrown at them, drenching the hunters from head to toe. Shielding Nyx with his body, he backed into Meg as well and the demon yelped when she was hit by a splash off of Dean’s coat. Her skin singed automatically before she managed to wipe the water off with her sleeve, but the Winchesters were both too involved in cursing to notice.

“Damn it… Kevin!” Dean shouted.

Sam wiped the water out of his eyes and spat out a mouthful. “Nice to know he was prepared I guess.”

Meg rubbed at the sore point on her hand and glared at the hallway as if ready to hunt the prophet down. Castiel murmured and followed the Winchesters in, on guard now for any more surprises. Shouldering the bag up higher and holding a small carrier in the other hand, Meg ran her eyes over the common room, looking for any signs or more buckets of holy water. Beside her, he hummed to Nyx when she started to fuss and Meg bumped his shoulder with hers.

“Gettin’ anything on the angel radar?”

He looked puzzled for a moment and then shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Good. Hate to see another big battle when I can’t fight still,” she muttered.

The loud cocking of a shot gun made them all stop halfway into the library and look up. Linda and Kevin stood on the second floor landing, Dean and Sam in their sights. Meg gave an exaggerated sigh and shook her head. 

“Can you two actually fire those things in a straight line?” Dean asked and Linda shot her gun off, barely missing him. The loud blast startled him and he jumped into Sam to dodge it as a salt round buried itself into a shelf behind him. “What the hell! It’s us!”

“Yeah but how do we…” Kevin started but Nyx chose at that moment to burst out into a howling wail in reaction to the blast.

“Damn humans,” Meg muttered as she set the bag down and walked back to Castiel, her hands running over her daughter’s body before lifting her out of his arms. “They always go ‘oh, demons will eat babies’, but look who is scaring the lil’ bit, huh, Nyx? The humans. Right.”

Castiel blinked and watched her as she continued to mutter away to the crying baby. Dean and Sam both rolled their eyes while Linda and Kevin nearly fell over each other to come down to the main level. Meg paced the floor, shushing Nyx as she walked, and Castiel simply stared in bemused wonder at her.

“I thought you had weeks to go,” Kevin said, staring at the baby and Meg. 

“Yeah well, someone decided she wanted to come here early,” Sam said, dropping exhausted into a chair. “Made our lives interesting a few days ago.”

Before Meg could even react, Linda fished the baby out of her arms and started immediately talking to her. The demon opened her mouth to say something but Kevin sliced his hand across his throat to stop her. Meg glared at him and Castiel took her arm in his hand and pulled back. Irrationally, both demon and angel felt jealous and possessive over the baby but Castiel contented himself with keeping a very careful eye on the human holding his daughter.

“You are just the cutest thing. All new and tiny.” Linda tickled her stomach and Nyx stared at her, as if committing her face to memory as well. Dean rolled his eyes again and sat down beside Sam as Linda continued to chatter to her. When she passed Meg and Cas, she held Nyx up a little between them, eyes darting between the pair. “She looks like both of your meatsuits.”

“Well, biology… on the outside yes she would, but on the inside,” the angel started to explain.

“She looks like you,” Linda said to Meg instead and the demon’s eyes went black almost teasingly. “Well, on the outside.”

Grumbling about humans, Meg took the baby from her and ignored Nyx’s apparent delight in being held by Linda. “Humans,” she muttered and she gave her back to Castiel. He checked her subtly before he set her in the braced carrier and put it on the table so he could keep an eye on her.

“So since we’ve proven we’re not demons, and Mama Tiger here got distracted by baby beautiful,” Dean waved his hand, “how’d you get out of the angels’ grips? I thought I’d have to save you both.”

Kevin glanced at his mother and she grinned. “Meg taught me something.”

“You’re not pregnant by an angel, are you?” Dean asked dryly and Sam elbowed him hard in the side. 

“Sigils. I copied the one she drew months ago.” She smirked. “My memory is still pretty sharp.”

Castiel gave the demon a look as he shifted Nyx around and she shrugged. “What? Not like I’ve used it on you since then.”

“Anyway, if we’re done with baby talk,” Kevin cleared his throat again. “I think we’ve got a way to help Sam.”

“Yeah? I hope it doesn’t involve helping demons give birth because I’m done with that,” he joked lamely. Dean nudged him this time as Meg and Castiel sat beside each other on the other side of the table with both Trans sitting at the head of the table.

“It’s a spell. A complex one that I came across in the tablet and in your books. Cas helped, of course.”

Dean eyed him. “Yeah, I know that. What is it?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Kevin tried and his mother rolled her eyes.

“He shares the burden with someone else. He’s resonating with God’s word, which is God’s power. So he has to share it. In many ways, you’re joining your soul with someone else’s and you both share each other’s health. Some books used to call it soul sharing.”

Sam blinked. “That sounds like high-end magic.”

“It is. For humans a demon or angel would have to take care of it,” Castiel agreed, though Meg stayed silent beside him. 

“We got it working. On cockroaches,” Linda finished.

“Cockroaches? How is that like humans?”

Meg opened her mouth and Dean glared at her. “Don’t say it.”

She shut her mouth with a snap but grinned.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sam said, wearily rubbing at his eyes. “For starters, how can I put this on someone else, when I’m going through it like this? When I know what it could do?” 

Dean stared at the tabletop before slowly his eyes went to Castiel. The angel was rocking the infant carrier with his hand gently but his own gaze was on Dean. 

“Look, if we are able to even get some of that out of you, Sam, then we can work towards a more final cure,” Kevin explained. “Better than you being so sick for the rest of your life you wish for death.”

“I don’t want this on anyone else. It was my task. I failed. I’m sick as a result.”

“Never-mind that the world would have burned, right?”

“I chose not to so the world could be saved another way. Demons and all.” Sam stood up and leaned across to them. “So either find a different cure, or find a way to end it.”

Meg watched him walk away and her eyes slowly dragged back to Castiel and Dean. Castiel broke his gaze to glance at her and then they both looked at Dean again. The hunter cleared his throat, eyes not leaving them. 

“I’ll do it.”

Sam froze mid-step and turned around. “What?”

“I said I was in this with you to the end and I mean it.”

“Dean, I’m not having you suffer through this too.” Sam gave him a wry look. “One of us has to be able to fight.”

“We don’t know what this will do,” Linda tried. “But when we tried it, the one who was sick was stronger because of the healthy one.”

“So I’ll be a parasite,” he said in an emotionless voice.

“You’ll be alive,” Dean corrected and he stood up. “Sam, I want to do this.”

“Wake me when the drama is over,” Meg mumbled and leaned back in her chair, ignoring Castiel’s nudge. The Winchesters ignored her and Dean lowered his voice.

“Sam. We do this together. Start to finish. You got me?” He held out his hand and Sam hesitantly put his own in that firm grip. His palm was cold and clammy and as Dean watched he seemed to sway on his feet. Looking at Kevin and Linda, he kept his grip steady on Sam. “How soon can we do it?”

“Couple of hours. We need Cas to get us some things.”

Dean looked at the angel and demon. “Cas?”

“Of course.” 

~~~

The Lethe churned violently, the waters boiling the moment the waves hit the shoreline. Furious and yet exhausted, Sheol stood at the cusp of the shore and extended her hands out to the side. The angels residing there had felt God’s call and some had managed to slip free of her hold, returning.

Now, the demonic souls that had come there were slowly reawakening as her tenuous interest in the Lethe waned further. Apathy was starting to take its hold. God had given the Lethe to her, to give her purpose while their contracts played out. But now… now she had no interest in it. Her power let the doorways that had been brought wide open by Meg’s release start to close. 

The souls that still remembered slices of what they had been were slipping free. 

She just didn’t care enough to stop them.

One release she had done just out of spite though and partially from love; his death had been unfair after all. God’s first son, his most loyal. No longer an Archangel but still the sort of soldier that would do God’s will and likely destroy the world just because he thought Daddy would love it. Of course, with maybe something just a little different about him. There were things nearly as old as the Archangels hiding in the depths of the Lethe, still unhealed and still broken. Things that rejected her healing because they had had a deeper purpose in life, thanks to Lucifer’s machinations.

The others… those she released because she had no interest in keeping them. Half-healed, half mad. Or all mad.

Vengeance, even petty, would be hers.

The longing to go to Meg, to meld once more and stop the inevitable spiral she was in, was so strong that she was closing the doors to the Lethe as a way of stopping herself.

Plus she could feel _Him,_ standing like a shade and wanting entry. Wanting to spout pretty words about how this was for the best. About how if they could join again, they could remake things.

He would not think so for long.

Her eyes rolled back and she extended her arms out to the side again, palms up. The souls within the Lethe began to wake up.

~~

Castiel skimmed the list Kevin had given him and made his slow way back to the bunker, pausing now and then to check on the surroundings. He drifted from town to town, covering his tracks by apparating to the strangest of places. He kept such careful watch to be sure he wasn’t followed that he nearly missed the way the shadows kept flickering at his back while he was resting in the middle of an abandoned dirt road.

“Castiel.”

The familiar voice made him turn slowly, eyes wide. Certain he was hallucinating, he stared. “You’re dead.”

Michael, wearing Adam Milligan’s face once more, smiled at him from where he stood on the opposite side. “Oh yes. Or I was. It is all such a blur.”

Castiel backed off a step, towards the edge of the dirt road. 

“I’m not here to fight, Castiel. In many ways, you did a great thing, preventing Lucifer from forcing Sam Winchester’s hand.” He waved a hand. “Things could be much worse.”

The younger angel backed away. “You, you’re changed.”

“A simple seraph. Her gift to me was rebirth, of a sort. A different sort of Grace remoulded from what I once was. Part of me resides in that cage with Lucifer, another part is what stands before you. I am just like you in some ways. Though maybe a little different.” He grinned and something tense in the air made Castiel long to run. “How is your daughter? The reason why Sheol let me go?”

Castiel lowered the bag he held and his angel sword slid to his fingers. 

“That’s not necessary, Castiel. I’m sure you will do what’s right,” Michael said in a passive voice so unlike him. “You daughter will be a formidable ally for our side, after all.”

“She’s a baby. And I won’t let the angels take her.”

“Sure you will,” he said pleasantly. “Eventually because you won’t have another choice.”

As Castiel went to wing off, Michael’s eyes, for the heartbeat of a second, shone yellow and then Grace-white. “Will you?”

~~

Dean just barely caught the bag Castiel tossed to him when the angel reappeared. “What the hell, Cas?”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he snapped, striding down the hall to the library, away from the dungeon. Dean watched him, jaw opening and closing a few times before he gave up and went back to where Linda and Kevin were. He’d been waiting for the angel to get back, needing to talk to him about this spell, but apparently he’d have to wait.

Swinging around the corner and starting down another hall to the common room, Castiel strode down the steps. When he went to call out Meg’s name, a flash of light struck him and he threw his arm up before his eyes to block it. Something too strong to resisted yanked him through the air and across reality.

When his eyes opened again, Castiel was sitting in an old pizzeria. Death sat across from him, carving delicately into a slice of pizza. To one side he had his black bag and a scythe, and he seemed unsurprised to see the angel in front of him. 

“Quite the interesting traveller you are, Castiel. Rather hard to keep track of.” Death glanced up at him as he popped a piece into his mouth and chewed. He could see the angel’s agitation and rolled his eyes. “She is perfectly all right. Both of them. Calm down.”

Blue eyes fixed on him. “Let me go.”

“No.”

For an infuriating amount of time, Castiel found himself unable to move, frozen in place as he watch Death slowly, meticulously, finish his slice of pizza. He longed to fidget, to run back, but the entity was not to be rushed. Each slow slice of his knife through the pizza made Castiel want to yell for him to get on with it. Finally, Death dabbed his mouth with a napkin, took a long slurp of his soda, and then leaned back.

“So. The demon survived Lucifer, your daughter is born, crisis averted, and the Winchesters a hairsbreadth from Sam being cured. Am I right?”

“If you already know that, what do you actually want?” Castiel demanded, trying to move. He was finally able to move his arms and he folded them across his chest obstinately

“Just to give you some advice.” Death tapped his ring finger on the table. “You aren’t out of the woods yet.”

Castiel gave him a confused look.

“Sheol will not take a loss lying down and your Father… well, let’s just say that his interest is still not what it should be. He would rather wallow in grief for our sister than deal with the consequence of trapping her as he has.” 

“What?” Castiel tried to focus on the pieces Death was inadvertently revealing but even as he heard them something in the entity’s power was making it hard to actually remember what it could mean.

“Your daughter’s birth saved the world. So to speak. She influenced Sam Winchester and her very existence is a shadow of Sheol’s. The negative being that she is also why Sheol is slowly closing the Gates to the Lethe as she herself heals.” Death gave him a nearly vicious smile. “So as you can imagine, those that do not belong in the Lethe, will be returned to this world.”

“The angels.” Castiel ran his eyes over the checkered tablecloth.

“Some very upset, half-at peace angels… and some of Meg’s own brethren that were trapped there, slowly being healed themselves. No one will be happy over this arrangement.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Death rolled his eyes. “I hardly have the time for what you believe, soldier.”

Without warning, Death reached out and put his palm on Castiel’s forehead. It sent a spark of pain through his entire being and he stared dumbly into Death’s dark gaze.

_A tiny baby being taken by the angels, warped by servitude as they all were. Trained to do as she was ordered. Becoming the perfect tool. Losing what she was._

_Meg… he saw Meg… thrown back into the Lethe as it was closed forever. Drowned in a sea of forgetfulness. Forgetting all of this._

The visions came in fragments, each more terrible than the last. Until the Apocalypse came again and this time there was none to stand its way.

With a cry, Castiel broke away from Death’s touch. His chair slammed into the ground as he stood and he kicked it out of his way. Eyes wide in anger and fear, he shook as he backed away, heading for the door.

“Picture how badly this will go, Castiel,” Death said as the angel nearly made it to the door. “When your family and Meg’s kind decide that your daughter is the perfect weapon to wield against each other. Oh, the wars over her.”

“I can protect her.”

“No. You can’t. Not right now. Not for another three years at least. You’re not ready.” He stood and tapped his cane. “A baby, especially one like her, is always in danger. The only one who can protect her is Meg. But until she is no longer an infant, she is vulnerable. They both are. Meg’s life is tied to the Lethe. In the end, both will be a liability to you. Even more than the Winchesters are.”

Death brushed his sleeves and turned to his bag, digging through it. “You are about to go to War, Castiel. In one month, you will see the sky light up and Heaven will fill with the angels. All more than eager to find a way to wage war once again. In more ways than you know. Can you afford to have more weaknesses that are in the open?”

With a snap of his fingers, and before Castiel could think of a response, Death sent him back to the bunker.

~

“Clarence?” 

He opened his eyes to see Meg standing before him. Her face was pulled into a frown and the longer her stared at her the more concerned he could see her becoming. She reached out and tapped his shoulder. 

“You okay, featherbrain?”

“I’m fine.” He sucked in a deep breath and looked around the hall. “Where’s Nyx?”

“Sleeping. Once her stomach is full the kid is knocked out easy.” She cocked her head on the side and stared up at him. “You were somewhere else there.”

“Yes…” He shook himself and reached out, touching her shoulder. “You’re not hurt?”

“What could hurt me here? Paper cut? Dean’s voice driving me insane?” she asked glibly.

“No, I…” He gave up, Death’s words ringing in his ears. “I wanted to be sure you were comfortable.”

“Well, now that you mention it.” She grinned and stepped into him. “Angelic body pillow was nice to have and I think I got used to it. You were kind of like a big hot water bottle.”

His eyes narrowed just a little at the comparison and he bent his head. “I have… to see to Dean and Sam.”

“Be a good little guardian angel then,” she said though her voice lacked any real heat. Her mouth brushed his jaw. “I want to go back to the safe house.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“Less confining,” she said bluntly and he tilted his head at her. “And I got used to it.”

“After Sam.”

“Deal.”

~~~~

Kevin finished the chalk lines on the floor, meticulously measuring out distances and sigils with the sort of obsessiveness they’d all come to expect from him. Sitting to one side, Linda coached him through more lines, more fragments of the spell, and he continued to mutter “Yes Mom, no Mom. I know what I’m doing, Mom” at her. Sitting in the middle of the first circle, Sam appeared strangely serene in comparison to the nervous Trans. His skin was still damp from sweat, grey from too much exertion.

Castiel’s reappearance with everything that they needed had been enough to give him some hope.

Sitting in the second circle, Dean steepled his fingers under his chin and watched the Trans work. Like Sam, he’d not spoken more than two words. As it was he had a hard time knowing exactly what might happen in the next stage of the spell. They’d swallowed some bitter, herbal potion that was supposed to somehow make this easier but as Sam’s dry-heaving had shown, it might have been better off being ignored.

Dean tried to remain focussed but now and then his eyes would drag back to Sam.

Knowing that if this went wrong, there might be little hope left.

A flutter to his left made him lift his head to see Castiel standing beside him, looking almost imposing. Something harried and tense in his expression had Dean leaping to the wrong conclusion almost immediately.

“You think this won’t work, Cas?” he asked and the angel dragged his eyes away from Sam to focus on the hunter at his feet.

“No, I think it will.” There was something discomforting about the way Castiel said that, as if he was so sure it would work that he didn’t want to even fathom it not. Dean leaned back, braced his arms on his knees and sighed. 

“You got all the stuff, we’ve got demon and angel blood, now all we need is a little bit of magic and boom. Repair job done.”

His attempt at being sarcastically confident made Castiel slowly look at him in a way that made him flustered.

“You realize this may change you irreparably?” the angel asked. “We all know that magic comes at a high cost, Dean.”

“If it saves Sam… no cost is too high,” he said, voice steady and his eyes like cold jade. “I want him to live, Cas. Not a half life but a good life. We do this together. I’m willing to sacrifice a lot to protect him and I know he’d do the same for me.”

Castiel sighed. “It has never been a question of your faith in one another, Dean. I just hope that in the coming years, we won’t live to regret this moment.”

Dean tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Castiel began to respond, thought better of it, and retreated back to where Kevin and Linda were standing, a bowl between them. Dean watched him go and then turned to where Sam sat in the other circle.

“You ready, Sammy?”

“As I’ll ever be,” his brother muttered and his eyes opened slowly. “You?”

“Not likely,” Dean answered and gave him a grin. “But we do this together.”

Kevin watched them grin at each other, knowing they were trying to both appear unconcerned, and then looked up at Castiel. “You can read the Enochian better than I can. You know the spell?”

Castiel glanced at the paper and committed it to memory instantly before taking the bowl and the silver cup from Linda. “Yes. Step back.”

They moved out of the way and Castiel stepped into the third circle they had drawn. Sam and Dean’s were interwoven at the sides, Enochian and demonic scripture written in the overlap between, and he motioned for them both to stand. He dipped the small chalice into the thick liquid the Trans had mixed. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the rotted smell of it, he held out the cup to Dean. 

Dean gave him a distasteful look but at the angel’s stony glare he quickly drank the milky liquid, nearly choking as the disgusting fluid hit the back of his throat. Sam took it in a more calm way, too exhausted to care, and when he was done drinking he closed his eyes and handed Castiel the chalice. The angel began to recite in a strange mixture of Enochian and Latin, eyes on both brothers.

The angel dipped the chalice again into the bowl and set it down between them. When Dean checked, he saw that the liquid was boiling in frothy masses over the sides as if reacting to the magic Castiel was starting to wield. He swallowed and looked at Sam but his brother’s eyes were still tightly closed. Castiel watched their faces closely before he drew out his angel sword.

“Extend your arms.” When both men held them out, Castiel slit their arms from elbow to wrist in a long line and ignored their matching grunts of pain. “And clasp wrists.”

Without a second thought, they grasped each others’ arms together and held on. Blood wept from their arms, dripping onto the interwoven circle and it began to glow white in reaction, the liquid from the bowl overflowing and pooling around their feet. Castiel continued to murmur and Dean felt a strange sensation start in his solar plexus. As if something in him was changing, growing and flexing, a warmth pushing at his skin. He closed his eyes and then reopened them slowly.

Behind Castiel, Linda and Kevin both could only stare as they realized Dean’s eyes were glowing as white as the circle.

Holding onto Sam’s wrist tightly, Dean stared at him and felt excruciating pain as Castiel poured the chalice’s contents over their joined arms. The liquid was hot, scalding and burning the flesh so painfully that he longed to let go of Sam’s hand so he could shake off the agony. But something stronger forced him to hold on, told him that the pain wouldn’t last. He dug his fingers into Sam’s wrist and felt the same intense grip in return.

When Sam’s eyes opened, his were white with power and the air around them shimmered brighter and brighter, until only Castiel was able to stand the sight of it. He was born to this sort of Power, it was nothing he could not handle. Dean felt something in Sam seem to resonate deeper and he held on tighter as what felt like boiling liquid moved beneath his skin and into his blood. Flashes of heat and echoing white noise buzzed into his skull and he barely managed to keep his eyes open as he stared into Sam’s eyes. Sam was clearly in pain but as Dean absorbed what had been too much for one body to handle, the pain seemed to lessen. The tense lines in his mouth disappeared, the grey skin turned tanned and flushed with health, and his eyes seemed brighter.

Dean held on and ignored the coursing pain through his body. 

“You’re my brother and I’d do anything for you,” Dean said forcefully and their cut arms began to glow as the force of the magic pulled their souls together, twining them tightly.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered.

“We’ll get through this. I’m gonna carry this burden with you, Sammy. Like I said I would,” he finished.

Sam simply kept his eyes closed and let the light envelope them.

Castiel watched the brothers and looked down at their joined hands. The liquid had congealed with their blood, looking like a thick glue that was binding them together. It wasn’t just their blood, he knew, recognizing the pure energy of Sam’s soul sharing its pain with Dean’s, and Dean’s own soul sharing its strength with Sam.

The energy the spell was casting was making the bunker nearly shake. Neither brother broke away as the booming thunder of the spell reached its highest crescendo, sound-waves starting to roll through the air. It sent out an arch of power that tossed Castiel back in the air and sent the brothers to their knees, Sam nearly loosing his grip.

“Hold on, Sammy,” Dean managed in a croak, his throat dry. Sam bent his head and exhaled sharply, glowing light passing between them. Dean reached out with his other arm and braced him so he didn’t fall further out of his circle, while his hand tightly grasped Sam’s wrist.

The flare of light slashed through the air, toppling shelves and shattering the glass cases close by. The angel and humans watching ducked to avoid the force of it and felt the way its magic blasted hotly through the air. The loud sound of the spell finishing itself without Castiel’s help was deafening and then, just as quickly as it had come, it stopped. Leaving only silence and a cool drifting breeze.

When they picked themselves up, Dean and Sam were still within the circles but the light was gone from them. The circles no longer glowed and there were no more flares. Their skin had returned to a healthy tan and when Dean opened his eyes they were normal, no longer fierce and angelic.

“Sam? Sammy?” He reached out and gently nudged Sam to get him to move. His brother seemed to be having a hard time just kneeling there. Ignoring the circles, he crawled over the chalk lines and grabbed his brother’s face between his palms, forcing him to look up. 

“Sam, look at me.” He coughed, tasting blood. When Sam didn’t react, Dean’s desperation made his voice higher. “Come on, little brother, look at me. Damn it, Sam! Come on! I’m not losing you now!”

There was a pause before his brother sighed.

“Five more minutes, Dad,” Sam murmured and Dean gave his closed eyes an incredulous look. Then one eye opened, just a little, and he saw the twinkle in Sam’s eye. 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean growled, wanting to punch him and hug him all at once.

“You mind keeping it down? I’ve got a headache,” Sam whispered, voice dry and tired. 

Behind Dean, Castiel warily approached, dragging his foot over the circles to release them. There was another whoosh as the left over magic exploded through the air and it sent another cool breeze through the room. Dean checked Sam’s temperature, finding his skin cool. His eyes had lost their glaze and he actually looked, for the first time, like the Sam before the trials had begun.

“You okay, Sam?” he asked as together they stood.

“Yeah… yeah I think I am.” 

Before he could say more, Dean wrapped him in a tight bear hug. “You ever do that again I’m gonna beat you up and leave you crying.”

“You can try,” Sam answered, as he hugged him back.

When they broke apart, Castiel stood just beside them. “You look much better.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said, hearing the irony in the angel’s voice. “What’s the catch?”

“You two are bound together more now than you ever were before. This is for life.”

“You’re saying it like we’re married, dude,” Dean said, affronted and Castiel shrugged. 

“Not quite like a legal contract though it has its similarities. Sam and you are going to have to support each other.” His eyes ran over Dean, and then Sam, as if seeing under their surface. “Strange how you look on the inside now.”

“Not helping, Cas,” Dean said,seeing Linda and Kevin standing to one side. “Thank you.”

They both smiled and then retreated a little to clean up.

Reaching out, Castiel took the Winchesters’ wrists in his hands and turned them over. A matching set of pure white scars ran from their palms to their elbows and were overlaid by burns from the liquid. 

“These won’t fade, will they?” Sam asked the angel and he nodded.

“They shouldn’t. They serve as reminders. What you gained, and what you’ve lost,” was the strangely formal response. Castiel glanced at them and then let them go. “You both never fail to surprise me.”

Then with a whoosh and flutter he was gone.

“I think we can take that as a compliment,” Sam said and he looked at Dean. His brother’s green eyes were intense, looking for any sign of harm. “Thank you, Dean.”

His brother blinked, the intensity gone.

“For having faith in me, for helping me.”

“We still got a lot of work to do, Sam,” he answered, almost sheepishly. “And I’d rather have you at my side than anyone else.”

They grinned at each other and for the first time in months, things nearly felt like they were right. Like there was nothing they couldn’t face.

~~~

_One month later…_

“You’re so happy,” Castiel murmured to Nyx as he fiddled with the edge of her tiny black t-shirt and tickled her feet. She squirmed a little on her stomach, trying very hard to lift her head and legs. It was something he had read was necessary, and when he gently turned her over her legs kicked out a little. He’d long since given up on any idea of angelic dignity and taken to sitting on the floor with her for these times. The carpet in the common room seemed to make her happy. It was a new view of the world to her. 

The happy feeling she radiated wasn’t unusual though.

He hadn’t expected that, with what she was, with how different she was that a human, that in her emotions she could seem so human. She was the happiest baby he’d ever known.

Though that could be because she was his and he felt a sinful amount of pride for her already.

He’d brought her to the bunker to get away from the safe-house. Meg was off, stalking demons and searching for any information she could find. Any threat. The way they split their time with Nyx was uneven at best; after retrieving the angel tablet, he had spent more time helping Sam and Dean adjust to the dividing of Sam’s illness, helping Kevin and Linda still search for more ways to control the power flowing through him. Looking for a way of seeing if the angels were returning as angry and mad as Death said they might. The way Death’s warning had engrained in him the knowledge that things could go every wrong very soon.

The way Michael and Naomi seemed to stalk his every turn made him keep very close to Nyx and to Meg.

Meg stayed on her own when she went off though sometimes he followed her, always keeping out of sight. She never really discussed what it was she did. Beyond those first days, Meg had never complained. She didn’t mind staying in one spot as much, so long as he gave her freedom and didn’t interfere.

Thinking of Meg’s penchant for disappearing around the country made Castiel put his fingers in Nyx’s grip. He watched her squirm again, her blue eyes on his.

“I’ll need to keep an eye on you, I think,” he said, lowering his head close to hers. “If you take after your mother, before I know it you’ll be flying all around and I’ll have to find you.”

If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he would have missed it.

The tiny glimmer of a smile.

It reminded him so much of Meg’s teasing grin that he could only stare.

“Nyx,” he murmured, tickling her abdomen a little. It was too early for her to laugh but he saw the genuine smile there. So happy but still so vulnerable. His Grace teemed out a bit as his wings, invisible to normal eyes, spread a little and he saw her eyes widen, following the motion. Invisible to humans but she always seemed to see it. He’d done it a few times since he figured it out and each time he’d felt how happy it made her.

It did make too much sense that such a thing made his daughter happy.

He did a few more times, bursting a lightbulb for his trouble but the sound caused that smile again. It was worth it that her first smiles were for him and for Meg. Nyx was always so fascinated by her mother and by him. Though she was always upset when he left, she did love when her mother held her because she felt safe.

Meg jokingly claimed it was because of her breasts but he’d watched them enough times to know that the demon was becoming equally comfortable with Nyx. 

“Still happy?” he asked his daughter as he shrugged his shoulders and his wings disappeared. Then he felt the tiny bit of hunger from her, starting to creep up, and he scooped her up into his arms. She liked the bunker and Castiel enjoyed bringing her there when the Winchesters weren’t needing him for something. He could find numerous books to read to her though Sam was sure that occult books on witches were inappropriate. Still, the times he felt her paying most attention was when he read Enochian or when Meg was telling her horror stories about Hell.

The first time when the baby had smiled had been when she was three weeks old.  He had caught Meg describing, in gruesome detail, how best to torture a Shifter. He’d been so enthralled by Meg getting that first smile that he’d chosen to ignore how inappropriate that story was. They had argued later about telling her those stories and unfortunately he had lost. 

Sitting at the table, Dean eyed him with the baby when he came into the library. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully as he listened to Castiel talking to Nyx. Like Sam, he hadn’t minded the angel bringing his daughter here for off days. It gave a different air to the bunker. No longer oppressive, no longer feeling as if it was just a mausoleum.

Since the Winchesters had split their souls to heal Sam, they had been staying under the radar as they adjusted to the slow change it had done to them. Castiel’s help had helped Sam adjust to being more attuned to Dean, and Dean was slowly adapting to having the same power that had been resonating in Sam. With it divided between the Hunters, they were able to handle it together.

Castiel still waited to see what repercussions could be happening.

“You know, you are pretty darn attached to her,” Dean commented after he swallowed a chunk of his sandwich.

“Of course I am,” Castiel answered as he sat across from him and grabbed a bottle from the bag he’d kept there. The moment she was nursing away, he looked back at him. “She’s my daughter.”

His habit of stating the obvious, especially when it came to Nyx, hadn’t died.

“Well, you get A’s in parenting. You sure picked it up fast.” Dean turned back to his book, trying to prep himself to go back and hunt. Now and then, he’d glance up as Castiel continued to talk to Nyx, grin, and then look back down. Sam was upstairs, sleeping as he often did during the day, and the angel’s presence had given him extra company since they’d taken Linda and Kevin to another safe house. 

Not to mention he could indulge in that soft spot for kids he tried so hard to hide. It didn’t matter that this was the daughter of his old enemy. She was also Castiel’s and he liked her.

When Castiel finished burping her, he noticed Dean staring. The hunter looked away, realizing he’d been caught, and Castiel cleared his throat to make him look up again. Wisely, he handed her over and saw his delighted grin. Dean swung her into his arms with practiced care, earning a smile as he took her and got to his feet.

“Come on, World’s Littlest Abomination.” He picked up the rainbow slinky that rested on a place of honour on the shelving close by and started to wiggle it in front of her. Her blue eyes fixed on the colours and she made a sound, getting Dean to grin as well. “I’ll show you my Zeppelin collection. Better introduce you to good music before Cas warps you too much and gets you singing hymns instead.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and smiled as the pair started up the stairs. Meg wasn’t happy about the Winchesters getting so attached to Nyx but she wasn’t around. Sam was as bad as Dean, having bought her another stuffed unicorn to add to the collection. That had earned him a fierce look from Meg that Castiel still didn’t understand.

He should ask her some day why unicorns made her seem so touchy and why Sam seemed to like bringing it up. 

Looking around the bunker, his eyes came to the digital clock, which was flashing the date. It had clicked over without him even noticing. One month. Nervously, he checked one last time as Dean disappeared with Nyx upstairs, still chattering away to her, before he flickered out.

~~

Her more human body nearly abandoned in favour of her true form, Sheol wearily looked at the sky of the Lethe. She had waited for too long, perhaps, not liking the thought of sleeping this away. But sleep and hiding seemed so blissful again. She needed to heal and then come back out of this fog she was in. 

The faint shadow behind her was quiet as it moved to the water and ran metal coins through the waves, until they glowed bright blue. Rolling the coins around in spindly fingers, they were dropped into the black bag and then the shadow disappeared.

Aware of it and uncaring, she raised her hands to the sky.

“Sister?” The voice made her stop her movement and turn around.

Standing in his chosen form, God made an interesting presence in the Lethe after so many years away. He’d dressed in white for the occasion, Sheol thought with bitter humour. She turned a little towards him, her own thin body draped with white chiffon and satin.

“Don’t do this.”

She smiled, a vicious twist to an otherwise kind expression. 

“I’m sending them home. Do with them what you will. But I don’t think you are ready for them.”

That vicious smile went flat and she saw his hand reaching out as she snapped her fingers. With a screech, the gates to the Lethe began to close and one by one, the souls and essences that had not been absorbed by the waters yet were thrown back to their own realities.

~

The harbour in New Hampshire was empty of tourists and he was thankful for it as he turned his head to the sky and stared. Just a night sky with clear darkness and no sign of rain. Nothing but the stars and the moon.

Castiel shut his eyes in thankfulness.

“It won’t do you any good. It will happen,” a dry voice commented behind him.

Castiel sighed and turned around.

“You’ve not wondered, for even a moment, what it will cost to keep them safe?” Seated on a bench, Death looked comfortable. “Hello, Castiel.”

“You know.”

“Please. I am omnipotent, of course I know. The only other being to have the slightest clue besides God or Sheol is the writer of those tablets. And he’s will likely get his own hands in this.”

“I have no time for this,” Castiel snapped. 

“Lethe will release the angels,” Death said and he watched Castiel stop and turn. “The living, that is. The dead will simply stay locked within. The demons who are half-healed, half-reborn, will be cast out.”

The angel’s eyes went to the sky again.

“Lethe will close and those souls your kind and the demons have no use for have no place to go. Where will they go but to wander, broken, in this world? Looks to me like the Winchesters will be very busy in the next few years.”

Castiel looked down at him.

“Some very vengeful souls, no doubt. Half-mad with being tossed from the Lethe. You do remember how your demon was, after that?” Death’s casual voice drew the angel back to sit on the bench beside him while staring at his hands. “Sanity is always in such short supply it seems.”

Castiel could only stare at his hands.

“Angels you put there, one time or another, demons who have been driven mad because they were so close to touching light and have now been burned by it, and thousands of miserable souls set to haunt this world, Heaven and Hell, all at once.” The entity’s grin was twisted. “Things look to be very dismal indeed. They will all want the perfect weapon.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Never is.” Death adjusted his position. “Your daughter will be incredibly vulnerable for several years, and your demon is already tired, already a target. Without Sheol’s constant touch, without the Lethe, she will be vulnerable as well.”

Death tapped his black bag. “Ironically, your daughter helped save the world. But because of that, the world is about to enter a very dangerous time because of her as well. That will no doubt cause some anger.”

The entity slid his hand into his bag and pulled out a tiny glow of light. He blew on it and it slid to the sky in a wash of light. The sky chose that moment to erupt into light, brilliant flashes of greens and pinks that made Castiel look away from Death. Like an aurora, the sky itself turned colour over the water.

“Here they come,” Death said, standing up and Castiel following him to the edge of the harbour. It was beautiful and terrible all at once and he could only stare with growing realization what was happening. The lights streaked across the sky, like they had months earlier. Only these were far more numerous, with tracks of grey smoke slicing through them.

He felt the angels return with everything instinct inside of him and he closed his eyes.

~

In Heaven, Naomi looked up from her desk as a seraph appeared before her. Her eyes crinkled in confusion and then widened.

“Brother.”

“Hello, little sister.” Michael, still just a seraph, still so loyal, smiled at her and his eyes turned just the faintest shade of yellow. “Our family is returning to Heaven. They are going to need to know why they were in the Lethe. Perhaps you can explain that to them.”

The Heaven she occupied, where no human souls lingered, exploded into screams of madness and pain.

~~

In Hell, Abaddon looked across the length of contract she had been perusing. Crowley still held the tablet, his one piece of leverage over the older demon, and waited. “There are so few of us old ones left,” he had said in explaining why he was willing to submit to her rule. He had to spit occasionally, when his words slurred and his brain seemed to leave on its own. Madness was barely shoved away though and sometimes the Queen could see the strangeness in him. “I think you would do well to remember how good family can be to each other.”

She glared at him and signed with a flourish on the dotted line. Reinstalling him as her subordinate, a King of Crossroads,and the damnable contract was magicked just enough to be unbreakable. It didn’t keep her from hating him the entire time but needing that tablet meant she had to work with her enemy.

“Pleasure doing business with you again,” he said with a grin.

The loud echoing screams, of pure misery, made them both rise from the table and turn to watch as billows of smoke descended into the depths of the Pit. Shrieking screams filled the entirety of Hell.

Her eyes were wide and cunning when Crowley looked at Abaddon once more.

“I think your army just regained some recruits,” he said and she laughed loudly.

~~

Death sighed and sat again. “Ironic, that what you changed, changed things just enough. But inevitably, the same conclusion will happen.”

Castiel stared at the sky. Attuned to Heaven once more, he could feel Naomi’s message to him slipping through the cracks in his hearing, her Grace calling to his.

Warning him.

The angels had returned. Angry and changed, flooding Heaven with uncommon pain and bitterness.

Death reached into his bag and slowly pulled out a string of coins, the Grecian sort that would have been placed on the eyes of the dead. Castiel stared at them and then slowly at the entity.

"These were bathed in the Lethe. Formidable magic from a reality you can never hope to truly see the beauty of. Half of why a soul reveals what they are is because of what they remember. Their past deeds, their life in this world and what they are. It may be of use to you and I think you know how. You’ve done it before.” Reaching out, he dropped it into Castiel’s hand and gave him a ghastly grin. Castiel could feel the warmth of the coins and knew what they were meant to do. What the waters of the Lethe were always meant to do.

"Why are you doing this?" the angel whispered and Death’s grin faded. For a moment he seemed a little sad.

"Because it is not above me to feel disappointment in my own kind. I am doing this for my own reasons, and ones you can’t hope to ever understand. As ever. You know what to do, don’t you? Your daughter needs her mother far more than she needs you, Castiel.” Death blinked, birdlike suddenly in his intensity. “So long as they know of the demon Meg, of Nyx, not to mention your weakness for them, they will hunt them.”

The visions Death had shown him, of Nyx taken, of Meg destroyed, had haunted him in those moments when he had thought to forget them.

“Unless, of course, they don’t know what to look for anymore.” Death smiled at him. “Goodbye, Castiel. I won’t see you again for… three years I believe.” He looked up at the sky. “It is simply amazing what can change in three years. How we can grow stronger and less vulnerable. Who knows what can happen? In three years you may be very surprised.”

Those eyes flicked to his face again and then with a snap he was gone.

Castiel stared at the coins in his hand and then up at the changing skies.

~~~~

Dean had been mid-way through educating Nyx about the stunning riffs of Jimmy Page when Castiel reappeared. Something had shaken him badly, even Dean could see that. If he’d ever doubted for a moment that Castiel could experience emotion, that was thrown away when he watched the angel scoop Nyx up and hold her as if he’d thought he’d lost her.

“Cas? Something wrong?” Dean asked as he took the needle off the spinning vinyl. Nyx seemed to think that Led Zeppelin was relaxing — she had smiled all through _Kashmir—_ and he’d been more than happy to indulge his own taste in music for her. Castiel’s lips remained pressed to the top of her tiny head and he took in deep breaths.

“Cas. Earth to Cas.” He snapped his fingers and the angel nodded.

“I’m fine, Dean. I… I need to take Nyx back to the safe house.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean demanded, reading the angel quickly. Castiel shut his eyes. 

“Everything. I want you to meet me there.”

“No explanations?”

“Bring Sam. I will leave instructions in the Impala but I have to go.”

Before Dean could stop him, the angel was gone, taking Nyx with him. The hunter frowned and made a face as he put the record back in its sleeve. “Didn’t think my babysitting was that bad but fine.”

~~

The safe house gave him just bit of safety and comfort the second he fluttered back in. With Nyx still in his arms, he had rechecked every ward, every door and window, to be sure things were safe. He’d sensed his daughter’s befuddlement about the situation and had soothed her, taking her back to the living room and letting her grip the unicorn toy Sam had given her.

Castiel watched the baby from where he sat on floor near the couch, as she stayed on her stomach and made gurgles and coos. His fingers steepled under his chin as he braced his hands on his knees and tried to not think. Without much else to do, he contented himself in watching her and waiting for Meg to come back.

Needing her to.

Reaching out, he touched Nyx’s arm and his hand slid down to hers. Her fingers flared open in reflex and then wrapped tight around his thumb. The grip was just a reaction but he could only stare at her, fascinated. Nyx made soft sounds, mostly gurgles as she tried to move her neck a little, and he smoothed his other hand over her head. 

"Nyx." He felt such a happiness from her that he let himself smile happily back. “You’re happy, aren’t you? Knowing your mother is coming back.”

Unable to help it, he picked her up and felt her nuzzle into his neck as he stood up, walking slowly around the room. Her tiny sounds were enough to soften him and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Strangely human, the feeling of protectiveness, but he closed his eyes and let it seep through him.

“I’ll protect you,” he vowed. “No matter what.”

His fingers tightened and he hummed low in his throat.

“Hungry?” he asked and he could have sworn he felt her happy glimmer at the suggestion. “We’ll see what your….”

“Do you always talk so much now?” Meg’s voice caught him and he turned, feeling a little guilty. The demon ran her eyes over him curiously, but there was the faintest sign of a grin there. “You realize how strange you look right now?” She walked in and ran her fingers over the curtains. “An angel, cuddling a baby?”

He rolled his eyes. “No more ridiculous than a demon nursing one, I’m sure.”

“I guess.” She grinned. 

"I took her to the bunker and fed her an hour ago but she thinks she’s still hungry," he explained and Meg’s eyebrows rose.

"She’s already manipulating you. Smart kid." Meg took a seat on the armchair and breathed out sharply. Castiel stared at her, aware of the heady smell of smoke lingering around her, and he tentatively stepped towards her. The demon rolled her head a little and sighed, and he spied a healing bruise on her cheek. When she caught him looking, she smirked. “Rough times.”

“Did you find anything?” he asked, sitting on the couch with Nyx on his legs. Meg subtly leaned over and glanced down at her daughter thoughtfully. Blue eyes fixed on Meg and Castiel felt her happiness at seeing her mother again. Her mind was foggy, naturally, but one clear thing was obvious. When she saw both of them looking at her, she was happy.

“Something’s got Abaddon riled up. The demons that attacked me this time weren’t shooting to kill, they were trying to trap me.” She shifted a little. “I could have sworn I was being followed by an angel or two but they never approached. Then the sky… that was insane.”

“You… you weren’t followed back here, were you?” he asked, voice rushed and she gave him a curious look.

“I don’t think so, why?”

“No reason. I worry about you.”

“Self sufficient demon,” she said, her favourite line to him whenever he did this. “Next thing you know you’re going to try caging me again, and we both know how that goes.”

He smiled and looked down at Nyx. Meg’s fingers were tickling her stomach and she squirmed a little in reaction. It was easy to enjoy the moment, sitting with her here.  He knew he loved them both and moments like these just intensified it all the more.

Finally, Meg slapped her hands on her thighs before standing up. “I need a shower. Get her ready for bed and then we can think about how to pass the time. I’m not in the mood for talking or sleeping.”

There was a blatant invitation there and he stared after the demon as she headed up the stairs to the bathroom. They’d not been intimate since the last months before Nyx had been born. He knew her body was healing, had respected it, and had gone so far as to ignore her inviting grins and teasing touches. Then with Nyx being so new… 

Still, the thought of finding comfort in her was sparking something in him he knew he should ignore.

Hurriedly, he followed her up the stairs, going into the nursery and sorting through the full drawers. He dressed Nyx in the tiny, warm jumper Linda Tran had given him for her and felt her confusion about why he was moving so fast. Feeling guilty, he slowed down and rocked her a little. By the time he set her back down in the crib the baby was sound asleep and he didn’t feel as guilty.

Distracted, he watched her sleeping for longer than he meant to and heard the door snick open. When he glanced over his shoulder, Meg had her arms folded and her wet hair hanging to her breast, soaking the top of her spare shirt. Her eyes were dark and fixed on him.

Swallowing, he shut off the light and turned around to face the demon.

_Hours. Just hours and I can feel them moving in Heaven already…_

_I want time._

Without a second thought, he moved towards her and grabbed her by the back of her thighs, lifting her up so her arms locked around his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his hips. Meg gave him a delighted grin and nipped at his upper lip, eyes almost sparkling with lust. Pressing a bruising kiss to her mouth, he walked her backwards and felt her nails dig into his shoulders. Her low moan vibrated through her, and he backed her into the wall outside the tiny room. The smacking sound of her body hitting the wall made them both groan and her legs drew up tighter as she ground against him.

"Are you sure?” he asked when he broke the kiss long enough to bite at her neck. Meg’s fingers slid down his chest, popping buttons as they went and she let him support her weight. He almost ripped her shirt apart and thumbed at her swollen nipples, biting a path down her collarbone.

"Been waiting for you to make a move, feathers," she said and he felt her tongue flick out, tracing his earlobe. "About time." 

“Thank God,” he murmured. When she gave a faint hum of approval, he lifted his head and kissed her deeply. The sounds she was making were low and sending shivers down his back before he remembered how close they were to Nyx. Tightening his arms around her, he carried her back into the bedroom and laid her down beneath him on the bed they shared.

~

Sheol sighed and looked up at the sky, aware of Death standing behind her. The only other God she would let remain for just a few more minutes.

“He’ll make the right decision?” she asked and he nodded.

“He will. He loves too deeply to not.”

“Then they will be safe. This way she grows the way she has to. And I can wait.”

Death stared at her. “Eventually, you and God will have to work together. You know that. Their child is more than just a mere extension of the contracts, more than just new life.”

She smiled. “Not until He learns his lesson about duty.”

Death shut his eyes as the Lethe closed more and he felt her power blocking him out completely.

~

Panting for breath, Meg stared up at the skylight, her head on Castiel’s stomach and feeling each quivering breath the angel took. They were both slick with sweat, her hair clinging to his skin, and whenever she moved it seemed to make the aftershocks last longer for both of them just because they touched. She could taste him on her tongue and smell the sex in the air. She’d not been ready for how fierce that had been. How hungrily he’d actually taken her; for once she’d been overwhelmed and felt a bit out of her league. Which never happened and was something she wouldn’t openly admit to.

 "Been holding out on me, huh?" She reached up and patted his bicep. "Not bad, feathers. Abstinence does make certain things… harder."

"I’m sorry if it was…"

"Not complaining." She stretched and he bit back a groan when she brushed a bite mark she’d left on his thigh. "A plus for you, hot stuff. What was the occasion? Celebrating the end of the drought?”

He didn’t answer her, just set his hand down on her shoulder and thumbed a mark he’d left there himself. Sated and oddly content, she turned over to face him and his eyes slowly opened, watching her eyes flicker over his face. The puzzled look was enough that he shut his eyes again.

"Something’s wrong."

"Nothing. I just…" He shifted a bit, leaning up against the headboard and she drew herself up to lay on his abdomen. He felt her lips trail hotly over his stomach and he tensed, not wanting her to stop. But then her head lifted when he didn’t continue. "I suppose I lied when I said I could do without this sort of connection."

"I think that’s a compliment." Meg’s eyes narrowed a bit. "That’s not just it, is it?"

"It is for now." He adjusted his legs around her slight body and she lifted up, bracing her hands on his shoulders and straddling over his hips. His breathing stuttered out at the seductive look of the demon; the swollen mouth, mussed hair and still damp skin catching his attention more than it should. 

It was be so easy to stay with her and revel in how she reacted just to his touch.

He would never find that again.

_So easy…_

Something in her face held him, and he saw clear happiness there. It lightened up her true face, turning it from dark smoke to soft grey, and the scars seemed to lessen even. He held her gaze, running his hand down her cheek and feeling her mouth press against his palm as she nuzzled into the touch. He knew what he was seeing in those dark eyes. When he saw her lips part and heard the whisper of words start with just his name, he involuntarily held his breath.

Knowing what she felt when he looked into her eyes and saw under the surface.

A faint cry from the next room made Meg sigh, the moment broken and Castiel closed his eyes. 

_If only…_

Though maybe it was for the best. If she’d actually spoken those words….

He shook himself and rolled to the side as Meg slid away from him, nails digging into the sheets. “I’ll check her,” he muttered, grabbing his clothing and quickly dressing. He felt Meg press against his back for a moment and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling.

"Mm." Her eyes shut and he watched her stretch as she lay back down. "Hurry back."

Watching the smooth lines of her body, he nervously swallowed and left to check Nyx.

He felt it the moment he entered the room.

She’d had her first nightmare. Of dried beaches and angels stealing her from Meg, stealing her from him. A premonition. That had been why she had cried and even now she was not settling until he laid his hand on her and shushed her.

She was fussy but as he stood and watched her she began to quiet again, content that he was watching over her. A bad dream. She had never had one of those before. Castiel sighed and ran his hand over his scruffy jaw. She was troubled by something she felt from him and resisting the urge to sleep.

He didn’t have the heart to force her to.

“I love you. I never thought it was possible to love someone I have only just known a month but I do.”

Castiel stared down at Nyx, his hands braced on the crib railing. She rubbed at her tiny features, yawning a little, and he couldn’t help the smile from touching his lips at the sight of her. Too young, he thought, to know how bad this world could be. Too young to know what the demons and angels could do to her. Reaching out, he traced the tiny fingers she had and the tiny rosebud mouth. The baby made a sound, a little mewl, and her fingers wrapped around his pinky. Castiel’s breath caught a little as she finally fell asleep. 

“Nyx.”

She was dreaming already, restless dreams of sunshine and waves. His presence comforted her, the angel could tell in the way she kept hold of him, and he sighed.

“You’ll be beautiful and strong when you grow up,” he whispered, pulling his hand free so he could lay his palm flat on her forehead. “You’re special.”

The baby curled her fingers into fists and he ran his thumb over her soft skin.

“I’m sorry, Nyx.”

He sought and found that piece of her that would respond to his power. But it was locked away, safe and secure. 

All he could do was hope that her baby memory would be too foggy to remember until the time came when she needed to. When she was ready or when the world was ready for her.

“Just hanging around?” Meg muttered from the doorway and he shut his eyes to steel himself against the comforting sound of her voice.

“I just wanted to see her,” he answered and he looked back over his shoulder her. Wearing a mens’ shirt and nothing else, she looked seductive even now. Not just sexually but to the part of him that wanted to rebel completely.

Meg’s eyes were on the crib but they slowly dragged back to him. “She’s not going anywhere, Clarence.”

He sighed and turned towards her completely, stepping away from Nyx’s crib. Meg’s eyes searched his face and she straightened herself up.

“What’s going on?” Her head tilted a little. “I could feel you thinking.”

There was no point in hiding it from her.

“The angels have returned from the Lethe. You saw them in the air. I have to do something, Meg.”

She nodded. “To take care of Heaven?”

“Something like that.” He approached her and Meg leaned against the doorframe. “I need to go.”

“Well, lucky for you, babies don’t grow that fast,” she muttered. “I knew I’d get stuck with this. You get a week, Cas.”

He just stared at her, eyes sweeping over her face with a strange hunger that made her uncomfortable. When he reached out to touch her, she flinched a little but relaxed as his hand just cupped her cheek. 

“You’re scaring me here,” Meg said and he smiled.

“You’re not scared of anything.”

She laughed a little. “Oh you’re wrong about that.”

“Meg, I have to make a choice. And it’s one I need you to forgive me for.”

The demon stared.

“I can’t come back to you. I want Nyx to have her mother and I want you to be protected. I don’t want something happen to either of you. When I was offered the choice between your life and your death, I will always choose your life,” he said and the déjà vu the words brought had her stepping away from him into the hall. Castiel followed her.

“Oh, tell me this is a Heaven thing.”

“Even though Naomi protected us, even she wanted to use Nyx, use you. The demons are no different. Eventually, they will figure out a way if I can’t hide you. And I need to protect you.” 

Meg looked down to the side. “And if I needed you?”

His breath stuttered out and he clenched his hands into fists.

“Doesn’t matter?” Meg whispered bitterly.

“Even with Lucifer chained and the Lethe being reborn, the angels need guidance and my part to play isn’t done. I want to protect you and I…I had a warning over it. There is a War coming… and I would be risking you.” He followed her into the bedroom and she turned on him.

“What about the Winchesters? Going to abandon them too?” Meg snapped. Castiel looked away from her. “So I was the one you were told to leave.”

He stayed silent. Meg ran her hand over her face and shuddered.

“You could rebel,” she offered weakly. Castiel didn’t know if he could tell her what he’d been shown, of her being thrown into the Lethe and Nyx given to an angel to raise. His daughter would be warped and changed to fit the mindset of the angels, a prize to be won.

Or found by the demons and twisted into a creature to rival even Lilith.

He wanted more for her than that and the thought of losing Meg again to death was too painful.

“I can’t.”

“So I’m supposed to just raise Nyx and run until I can’t run anymore? The entire time trying to avoid demons, angels, and hunters?” She pointed to her head. “You’re insane. At any moment I can be killed when your family decides not to truce with a demon anymore. What about the demons? They can track me.” 

Castiel shook his head. “No. I’d hide you. The only way they could find you now is because of what you are. I can hide that, bury it away so that they only see what is on the surface, the way a human does when they look at you. Nyx can hide herself, I can feel that. She’ll forget.”

The air hung heavy in silence as she slowly realized what he might do to her.

Meg’s head shot up and they stared at one another. “Cas…” 

He caught her before she could run, sensing that instinctive flare of her own power. She stopped fighting the instant his fingers wrapped around hers and he pulled her back. The feeling of Grace around him was so strong that Meg felt her own power dwarfed by it. Castiel’s eyes glimmered a little and she exhaled in a low sound of pain.

“You can’t do this.”

“I have to.” His hand cupped her cheek and she unconsciously leaned into the touch.

“I need you to stay with us… with me.”

Unspoken but heavy words slid through the air and he pulled her into his arms completely. A more human need to keep her safe made him hold her and he felt her shaking as she tried to appear brave and stoic.

“And I need you both to live. You can be happy this way. You won’t remember me or what you are. What Nyx is… it can keep you safe when I can’t be there. You won’t need me to protect you when I can draw them all away from you.”

Meg choked a little,  and he felt the air rush out of her body in a heavy sigh. “You didn’t realize a damn thing, did you?” she whispered against his chest and he reached down to cup her face between his palms.

There was a naked vulnerability on her face and he smiled.

“I know. I never doubted for a moment that you loved me.”

The demon shut her eyes and he bent to kiss her, needing that contact again. Meg’s body lifted up to his, fingers sliding into his hair and holding him close as he kissed her. The comfort he could take was so familiar that he lingered as long as he could, until it was too much and he remembered the temptation she was.  

“Don’t do this. You’re taking away what I am,” she whispered when he broke away. With one hand drawing the coins out of his pocket, Castiel’s fingers caressed her cheek as he began to warp the coins, Lethe blending with his Grace. Meg opened her eyes to reveal them totally black in response to the Grace he was suddenly wielding around them. “Castiel, please.”

She’d never begged him before and it felt as if a knife had been thrust into him and slowly twisted. Castiel stared into the darkness of her eyes and in that instant hated his Father more than he ever had before. Hated the angels and the demons.

He wondered if God had known that he would choose Meg’s freedom rather than have her be trapped again by the Lethe.

His palm moved to her forehead, pressing the coins into her and without a word, he let his power drift into her. Every part of her fought but as Death had pointed out, since the Lethe closed she felt weaker than before. Still holding her tight, Castiel lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his one more time. 

“Goodbye, Meg.”

“Clarence, please. Please…” she begged, voice broken and then soft sobs started to escape her as the pain of the intrusion began to slowly build a wall in her mind to block what she was. The demon in her howled angrily as his Grace wrapped around it and tried to comfort it. The two powers, light and dark, had become so used to each other that it was like tearing something deeper in them both apart. His Grace slowly buried the demonic darkness into deeper inside of her and whitewashing the outer layers of her. Castiel held her close as she started to fall apart in his arms, begging him to stop, while his power hid the demon away. It left the human side on the surface of her meatsuit, left her soul on the surface more human than demon. As the spell twisted around them, Castiel carefully rebuilt her memory to keep her from remembering anything but Nyx and the need to protect her daughter.

Of all the things he left behind on the surface, he left her loyalty to a cause.

The broken sobs quieted as the pain of his Grace slowly left her. Castiel nuzzled her hair line, and shook as the effect of the spell hid the demon’s trueface from even his sight. He rocked her gently back and forth and prayed. Prayed so much with anger and fury that he hoped that God would feel his grief and suffer from it.

When she sagged completely in his arms, he laid her down on the bed and wrapped himself around her. Needing that last bit of comfort before he lost it forever.

When she fell asleep, feeling almost human in his arms, he slowly removed the coins from her forehead. The tiny coins, strung together on a leather line, jingled together and he slid his fingers over the necklace she always wore. The charms there felt hot against her skin and he wrapped the coin lines over them, melding the charms with them. Streaks of white light flooded over her skin in response. Like a hex bag, the instant they were there he no longer felt the demon. They’d hide her true nature, keep it forgotten. 

He felt only a human under her skin now.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, allowing himself a few moments. “Never forget that. I never will.”

But he knew, if he’d done what he knew he could do, then Meg would forget. Nyx would forget, and he would be nothing but a shadow in their memories. A vague sort of dream.

They would be safe.

They’d forget.

~~

When the Impala pulled up into the driveway in Colorado, Dean had never seen Castiel look more depressed. He had read the instructions, had barely believed them, and neither had Sam. It was the sight of the angel sitting there on the small porch that convinced them.

Not even finding out that God no longer cared had made Castiel appear so broken.

He was holding Meg in his arms, Nyx in her car seat, and not even Dean’s greeting caused him to lift his head. He had his head buried in Meg’s hair, his eyes tightly shut. For a moment, Dean thought the demon was dead. But when he looked, she was sleeping, bonelessly relaxed in Castiel’s arms. It was strange but nothing abnormal.

Until he realized he no longer smelled sulphur around her. That she didn’t react to any of them. That Nyx was in as deep a sleep as her mother.

“Cas, what did you do?” Sam whispered, sensing immediately that something was off. He looked at Dean and in unspoken communication they knew that there was more wrong than what they could see.

“I had to.” He shuddered and held Meg closer. “I had to.”

There was a broken note in his voice that worried Dean.

“I read your note, Cas. Your instructions.” He crouched down. “Cas… buddy. We could find a way.”

“I won’t risk them. I need to protect them and you both.”

There was something torn in the angel and Dean realized that whatever had threatened him had played perfectly. 

“You’re asking us to do this. Cas. I…”

“Please, Dean. I need to protect them.”

The pleading in his blue eyes tugged at Dean and he sighed, looking over at Sam. His brother shook his head and lifted the carrier from the porch, Dean going out to take Meg from Castiel. The angel tightened his grip. “I’ll take her.”

Dean backed off and collected the bags Castiel had packed instead, following behind the angel. He could hear him murmuring to the unconscious Meg. Instructions to protect Nyx, to keep her safe, to not do anything reckless; Dean knew Meg wouldn’t hear any of it but it seemed to help the angel. 

What Castiel was sacrificing felt painfully familiar to both him and Sam. Since the soul sharing, Sam and him shared emotions frequently and they both felt grief for what they had once lost. Sam strapped Nyx’s seat into the Impala as safely as possible and turned to face Castiel. The angel pushed by him and put Meg in the back seat.

“She’s human,” Sam whispered, confused.

“On the surface. No demon or angel can see through that spell unless I take it off.”

“Would you?”

“I want to,” Castiel whispered as he buckled Meg in and caressed her face. Not seeing the true face he had grown to love so much. “More than anything in the world. But not now. Not yet. It’s why I need you to hide her from everyone, even me.”

“Why us?” Dean asked as he closed the trunk.

“Because even when I fail you… you won’t fail me,” Castiel answered and he leaned over to Nyx. He touched her baby soft face. “Goodbye, Nyx. Protect your mother.”

As he pulled back, he pressed a chaste kiss to Meg’s mouth, no longer tasting the bite of darkness. Only mint and human.

“Goodbye.”

When he was out of the car, Dean and Sam were back at the deck, Dean slicing open his hand. Sam shook his head and came to stand beside Castiel.

“Cas, if I can…”

“Don’t. Please don’t.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I made my choice. I know this is right. I had a month with them.”

He smiled, a little wanly, a little cruelly.

“I was happy. For over a month things felt… right. With all of us. There’s always a price for that.”

Sam met his eyes and already could see the slow retreat of the Castiel they’d all come to know. He was already becoming the soldier again.

“Are you ready?” Dean asked, wiping his cut palm on his jeans. Castiel took one last look at where Meg and Nyx were bundled up in the Impala, the baby’s small, half open eyes seeming to be fixed on him. Meg’s head was drooped low and he could see the pulse of magic doing its slow, tedious work on her. Part of him faltered, wanted to say no, that he didn’t want to leave them. That he didn’t want the Winchesters to hide them where he couldn’t find them.

But one look at them and what should have had him saying no made him nod and whisper, “I’m ready.”

Reluctantly, Dean slammed his palm onto the Enochian sigil and in a flash of brilliant light, Castiel was thrown to the other side of the world. 

Sam sighed and looked at the pair in the car. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I. I know he said that it was for the best but…”

“Sometimes Castiel’s best intentions go wrong, I know,” Sam agreed. “He’s trying to protect them though.”

Dean shook his head. “We’re the only ones who know where we’re dropping her off. Castiel said he couldn’t check in on them. He didn’t say anything about us keeping an eye. We can help protect them in our own way. Take her where we talked about.”

Sam hesitated and then nodded. Like Dean, he’d gotten strangely attached to Nyx, and even to Meg. It had been easier to make her an ally than an enemy.  

“Let’s take her there then.”

~~~

The coach bus rolled down the lonely strip of Alabama highway, crowded with passengers. Single college students mostly; lost in their own worlds as they went home. The driver had cranked up the local rock station and it hummed over the small PA system.

The man in the tan overcoat sighed and leaned his head against the window, still holding a bag on his lap. 

_I’m an early morning lover and I must be moving on._

Castiel thought about forcing the station to turn but decided not to. Instead, he let the music soothe his vessel though his mind was a million miles away. Thinking about the past year. Everything he’d done. The things he’d found. People dead, friends, demons, angels…

His eyes closed as he remembered Meg in that last time, grinning at him as he ran his fingers down her face. Needing more, he changed the memory so that she finally said those words she’d been hesitant to say aloud. They vibrated through him; he’d seen what she felt so many times that it wasn’t hard to pretend he had heard the words. In some way, it kept him from turning everything over to the angels and walking away to try to be with her and Nyx. He had had a month with them.

For the first time in 4 years he had been genuinely happy.

Now he felt hollow.

One week had gone by of him riding the bus around the Midwest. Not daring to call Dean or Sam. Inside his bag, the angel tablet was safe.

_Goodbye stranger it’s been nice, hope you find your paradise…_

A soft flutter to his left had him going for his angel sword. But the portly little man at his side looked like no threat and he held up his hands in demonstration of that.

“Hello, Castiel.”

The angel ran his eyes sharply over him. An angel but hardly a soldier; there was nothing threatening about him. “How did you find me?”

“I have my sources. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

_Feel no sorrow, feel no shame, come tomorrow, feel no pain…_

As the song was drowned out by the hum of the bus, Castiel stared at the other angel as he held out his hand. When Castiel ignored it, he dropped his hand and patted the bag, not seeming to care that Castiel was ready to stab him for it. “I see you have something I wrote.”

The angel could only stare. “Metatron. You’re the Metatron?”

“Please. Call me Marv.” His head dipped toward him. “Heard all about you losing that demon and her baby to the Lethe. Tough break, kid. For a second there that was looking like a happy ending to your story.”

So Dean had spread the rumours that Sheol had dragged Meg back there, far enough that the angels had heard. With luck, others would believe them. He turned his head to look out the window. “What do you want?”

“Me? Well. I think I want to help you.” 

Castiel looked at him, gave a disbelieving snort, and was about to fly off when he heard a woman talking loudly to the driver. His eyes were drawn up to where the dark-haired woman was holding a baby. She looked nothing like Meg’s old vessel, but it didn’t stop him from staring. Marv followed his gaze, then looked back at Castiel’s more youthful face. Seeing the grief and the hunger there.

Sensing Marv’s curious smile, Castiel immediately dropped his eyes away. “Help me with what?” he demanded.

“Give the angels what for. With a little help from you, we can get everyone back in Heaven, where they should be until things calm down down here.”

“Why would I do that?” Castiel asked, his voice low. Deadly.

“Get our family back to where they should be, for starters. So we can remember, once again, why God put us here. Maybe he’d come home then. Maybe you could find a way of getting your family back then if you could have Father back.”

Heaven wasn’t his home anymore. Home had been the bunker, home had been a safe house in the middle of Colorado. A house he’d left behind because there was no reason to go back there. 

Castiel shook his head. “Why should I trust you?”

Marv grinned. “Never said you should. Just think about it though, will you? I’ll be around.” 

He didn’t look away as Marv disappeared in another flutter of wings. Leaving his cryptic words behind and Castiel no more sure what to do than before. Wanting to force his family to listen, to have God return so he could ask him _why_ was a strong temptation after what he had lost. Of what he couldn’t have.

Over the radio, the song changed and Castiel closed his eyes, wanting to forget the urge to run and hide for the rest of his existence. 

_Like a song so sweet and simple…Never to be heard again_

The low hum of a female voice pulled at him and he tried to drown it out.

_And this is your….remission of sin_

Castiel stared out the window and prayed for strength.

_~~~The End~~~_


End file.
